


A Time for Dragons

by DolorousEdditor



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), R plus L equals J, Sexual Content, Violence, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 81,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DolorousEdditor/pseuds/DolorousEdditor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of dynastic politics, courtly intrigue, and rebellion.</p><p>Rhaegar, Viserys, and Daenerys are the children of Aerys and Rhaella we all know, their other siblings dying in childbirth or the cradle.</p><p>But what if they had lived? This story is an AU where four more of the Mad King’s children grew to adulthood. A world where Daenerys had six older siblings instead of two.</p><p>King Rhaegar rules over the Seven Kingdoms, a land divided in its loyalties while old wounds still linger after Rhaegar's Rebellion against the Mad King. Princess Daenerys, youngest of the king’s siblings, has grown up at a court full of dragons and powerful families, most vying for greater power. While some dream of a resurgent Targaryen dynasty, others foster their own ambitions toward the Iron Throne.</p><p>A tale focusing mostly on the Houses Targaryen, Baratheon, Lannister, and Martell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Same World, New Faces

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by and most of the characters come from George RR Martin's A Song of Fire and Ice book series. I gain nothing from this. Nothing I say.
> 
> I only give permission for my works to be on AO3. If you upload it elsewhere, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will... be angry with you.

House Targaryen

**Rhaegar:** Beleaguered king.  
-Everyone wants from him, few wish to give, and his future is haunted by his past. His efforts to reform the realm meet with opposition from the nobility and he has to rely more and more on the alliances made by his siblings marriages. During a key time, he now focuses on a younger generation to carry on his legacy.

 **Shaena** : Queen and Rhaegar's sister-wife. First daughter to Aerys and Rhaella.  
-Betrothed to Rhaegar from her first name day and raised from childhood to be queen. A rumor claims she was once in love with Arthur Dayne.

  * **Visenya** : Eldest child of Rhaegar and Shaena.  
-The pureblood Targ version of Rhaenys from canon. Adventurous and bold, having grown up travelling the realm with her father. Currently tours the Free Cities with Richard Lonmouth, Arys Oakheart (KG) and her ladies, including Nymeria Sand.


  * **Aegon the Heir** : Only son of Rhaegar and Shaena, and heir to the Iron Throne.  
-Handsome, charming, and beloved by court. The distant manner of Rhaegar has created a gulf between father and son. He currently wards at Highgarden.



**Daeron ‘The Dragonseye’** : Knight of the Kingsguard. Second son of Aerys and Rhaella.  
-Maimed by his father and feared by many. Former castellan of Dragonstone and second youngest knight named to the Kingsguard. He is protective of his family and merciless to their enemies. His closest friends are Rhaegar and Jaime Lannister.

 **Aegon 'Egg'** : Master of coin. Third son of Aerys and Rhaella.  
-An ambitious and charming prince, one who respects power and the crown above most things. At thirteen, he was married to Cersei Lannister. He defends both Targaryen and Lannister interests at court. Holds lordship over Dunstonbury and Whitegrove.

 **Cersei Lannister** : Wife to Aegon, mother to his three children.  
-The unofficial head of the Lannister household in King’s Landing. The lioness of court, she advances the interests of House Lannister and feuds openly with Shaena.

  * **Joffrey** : Eldest son of Cersei and Aegon (actually Jaime’s).
  * **Myrcella** : Only daughter of Cersei and Aegon (also Jaime’s).
  * **Tommen** : Youngest son of Cersei and Aegon (surprise, surprise, Jaime’s).



**Jaehaerys ‘Jay’** : Fourth born son of Aerys and Rhaella. Castellan of Dragonstone.  
-Known mostly for his singer’s voice and gentle ways. Aerys kept him close during and he witnessed many atrocities. He was made a knight during the Greyjoy rebellion and married Lynesse Hightower. He hates court and his memories of it.

 **Lynesse Hightower:** Wife to Jaehaerys.  
-Fell in love with Jaehaerys at Oldtown. Despises Dragonstone and wishes to live at court with the rest of the royal family.

 **Viserys:** Fifth born son of Aerys and Rhaella.  
-Holds little role at court and carries deep resentment towards Rhaegar and Daeron for their actions against Aerys. With no holdings to his name or betrothals made, some refer to Viserys as the ‘Beggar Prince.’

 **Daenerys ‘Daenerys Stormborn’:** Youngest daughter of Aerys and Rhaella.  
-Totally overshadowed by her siblings in this world. Her more powerful siblings all want her to marry different men for their own ends.

 

The Small Council/Court

**Lord Jon Arryn** : Hand of the King.  
-Chief among the rebel lords, he played a key role in keeping the peace between the Baratheons and the Iron Throne.

 **Lysa Tully** : Wife to Jon Arryn.

  * **Robert Arryn** : Son of Jon Arryn and Lysa. He is sickly.



**Petyr Baelish** : Chief steward to the Arryn household in King’s Landing.

 **Ser Barristan Selmy** : Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.  


The Kingsguard

  * **Prince Daeron Targaryen**
  * **Ser Jaime Lannister**
  * **Ser Balon Swann**
  * **Ser Robar Royce**
  * **Ser Arys Oakheart:** Part of Visenya’s retinue in the Free Cities.
  * **Ser Osric Waters:** The bastard son of Oswell Whent. In canon he and his mother were killed during the sack of King’s Landing. He is Aegon the Heir’s protector.



**Prince Oberyn Martell** : Master of Whisperers.  
-He took the position at court at the behest of Shaena and his siblings, Doran and Elia, and to entertain himself.

  * **Ellaria Sand** : Paramour to Oberyn, mother of the youngest four Sand Snakes.
  * **Obara Sand** : His bastard daughter, taking stock of sellswords/pirates across the Narrow Sea.
  * **Nymeria Sand** : His bastard daughter, travelling the Free Cities as a guide to Visenya. She has become Visenya’s lover.
  * **Sarella Sand** : His bastard daughter, spying on the Citadel in Oldtown.
  * **Tyene Sand** : His bastard daughter, travels the realm disguised as septa.
  * **Ser Daemon Sand** : His squire, the Bastard of Godsgrace. Bastard son to Ser Ryion Allyrion.



**Ser Baelor Hightower** : Master of Ships. Husband to Elia Martell.  
-He is the heir to Hightower and is well-loved at court. Enlisted to help build the royal fleet up into the premiere naval force in the Seven Kingdoms, though he has been stymied by the king’s shifting priorities and unrest in the realm.

 **Princess Elia Martell** : Lady-in-waiting to Queen Shaena. Wife to Baelor Hightown.  
-A close confidant of Shaena and the reason the Red Viper was elevated to the small council. Mother of Baelor’s two children.

  * **Othor Hightower** : Son of Baelor and Elia.  
-A boy of fourteen and squire to Jaehaerys.


  * **Elinor Hightower** : Daughter of Baelor and Elia.  
-A girl of twelve and lady-in-waiting to Daenerys.



**Aegon ‘Egg’** : Master of Coin.

 **Lord Jon Connington:** Master of Laws. Lord of Griffin's Roost.  
-One of Rhaegar’s chief backers and allies on the council. His position of firmly support of the king has created a rivalry between him and Jon Arryn.

 **Benedict** **–** Grand Maester.  
-An expert on law and statutes of the Seven Kingdoms and the Targaryen dynasty. In canon he is an archmaester of the Citadel.

 **Septon Meribald:** Advisor to the king.  
-A wandering septon whose experiences and knowledge of the smallfolk and their woes appeal to Rhaegar. His low birth and inability to read or write marks him an oddity as a royal advisor. 

 **Ser Richard Lonmouth:** Knight sworn to House Targaryen.  
-He is Rhaegar’s former squire and once served as captain of the guard at the Red Keep. He currently commands Visenya’s retinue in the Free Cities.

 **Lord Randyll Tarly:** High Reeve in King’s Landing  
-The Lord of Horn Hill and chief judge of the capital.

  * **Melessa Florent:** Wife to Randyll and mother of his five children.
  * **Samwell Tarly:** First born son. A man of the Night’s Watch.
  * **Talla Tarly:** Eldest daughter of Randyll Tarly and Melessa Florent.  
-Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Daenerys.
  * **Melara Tarly:** Middle daughter to of Randyll Tarly and Melessa Florent.
  * **Alana Tarly:** Youngest daughter of Randyll Tarly and Melessa Florent.
  * **Dickon Tarly:** Youngest son of of Randyll Tarly and Melessa Florent.  
-Heir to Horn Hill after Sam's "exile."



**Theon Greyjoy** : Heir to Pyke. Hostage/Ward of Rhaegar.  
-Taken after the defeat of the Greyjoys. He was raised at court alongside Aegon the Heir.

 **Ser Alliser Thorne** : Captain of the Guard at the Red Keep.

 **Ser Jacelyn Bywater** : Lord Commander of the City Watch.

 **Ser Baldric Wendwater** : Warden of the Kingswood.  
-He is a knight of House Wendwater and ensures the Kingswood is maintained for the king’s pleasure.

  * **Gael Wendwater** : Lady-in-waiting to Daenerys.  
-Daughter of Baldric and a maiden of fifteen.



**Ser Jaremy Rykker** : Envoy of the Night’s Watch.  
-He is a ranger that has served as the Wall’s chief advocate at court for several years. His position was an idea by Rhaegar.

 **Allyria Dayne** : Lady-in-waiting to Queen Shaena.  
-Sister to Arthur Dayne and the Lord of Starfall. Betrothed to Beric Dondarrion.

 **Ysilla Royce** : Lady-in-waiting to Queen Shaena.  
-Daughter of Lord Yohn Royce and sister to Ser Robar of the Kingsguard.

 **Desmera Redwyne** : Lady-in-waiting to Queen Shaena.  
-Daughter of Lord Paxter Redwyne and Lady Mina Tyrell.

 

House Baratheon

  **Lord Robert Baratheon** : Lord of Storm’s End.  
-Widower and bitter rival of Rhaegar. His grief at Lyanna’s death has led to more than a decade of volatile relations with House Targaryen. He flirted with joining the Greyjoy Rebellion but decided against after Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark stayed loyal.

  * **Jon Baratheon** : Heir to Storm’s End.  
-Son of Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark (actually the bastard son of Rhaegar and Lyanna). He has a strained relationship with Robert and his uncles. His time at Winterfell earned him close bonds with House Stark.


  * **Mya Stone** : Bastard daughter of Robert.  
-She has become the unofficial master of horse at Storm’s End. Takes after Robert in looks.


  * **Gendry Waters** : Bastard son of Robert.  
-He is the blacksmith at Storm’s End. Takes after Robert in looks.


  * **Edric Storm** : Bastard son of Robert and Delena Florent.  
-He wants to become a knight and serve his family one day. Mostly takes after Robert in looks, save for his prominent Florent ears.



**Lord Stannis Baratheon** : Robert’s younger brother.  
-Shoulders the running of Storm’s End. Stannis has kept much of the Stormlands on a war footing since the rebellion. His own holdings are meagre, consisting of only a minor keep at the edge of Baratheon lands.

  * **Selyse Florent** : Wife to Stannis and mother to Shireen.
  * **Shireen Baratheon** : Daughter of Stannis and Selyse.  
-At Storm’s End, only Maester Cressen and Stannis can match her skills in reading or writing.



**Renly Baratheon** : Robert’s youngest brother.  
-Acts as Robert’s envoy to the rest of the realm and the member of House Baratheon who visits court most frequently. 

 **Robb Stark:** Ward to Robert Baratheon.  
-First born son to Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. Heir to Winterfell and best friend to Jon Baratheon.

 **Cressen** : Maester at Storm’s End.

 **Ser Davos Seaworth** : Landed knight.

  * **Marya** : Wife to Davos and mother to his seven sons.
  * **Dale, Allard, Matthos, and Maric:** Eldest sons of Davos and Marya, in order of birth.
  * **Daven** : Fifth born son to Davos and Marya.  
-A squire to Stannis.
  * **Stannis and Steffon:** Youngest sons of Davos and Marya,in order of birth 




	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Time for Dragons. Where one king falls and another rises from the ashes. A dynasty of fire and blood.

**_A Time for Dragons_ **

_The marriage between King Aerys and Queen Rhaella was never a happy one, yet many were content with how fruitful it proved. The Tragedy of Summerhall and other misfortunes left the survival House Targaryen resting on Aerys’s line._

_Thus it was a gift from the gods when, despite many miscarriages and difficult births, Rhaella persevered in giving the king seven children to reinvigorate the dwindling Targaryen line._

_Twenty-five years would pass between the birth of Rhaella’s first child and her last._

_Rhaegar (259), Shaena (264), Daeron (268), Aegon (272), Jaehaerys (274), Viserys (276), and Daenerys (284)._

_Rhaegar, Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, was well loved by the people but solemn in nature. Shaena was the answer to Aerys’s prayers for a daughter, as he wished to keep the Targaryen line pure, and she was betrothed to Rhaegar from her first nameday and wed to him on her sixteenth. Daeron, second son and apple of the queen’s eye, would grow to squire for the legendary Ser Arthur Dayne. Aegon was not quite the warrior his elder brothers were, but made up for it with the same charm and promise his father showed in his youth. Jaehaerys and Viserys were the sons Aerys kept closest as his madness took hold. Sadly, Aerys would grow to distrust even his own children. Daeron’s defiance and Aegon’s ambition unnerved the king nearly as much as Rhaegar’s popularity._

_Lastly came Daenerys, who Queen Rhaella died birthing during a storm at Dragonstone. Conceived during the reign of Aerys, born at the beginning of Rhaegar’s, Daenerys would be the youngest dragon to rise from the ashes of rebellion._

_The others holding her fate in their hands._

 

 **DAENERYS  
** _-289 AC-_

Her bare feet padded silently across the empty corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast. The hour was late and the night chill made the stone floor cold against Dany’s feet. She’d left her slippers back in her chambers where an intruder woke her only moments earlier.

“Naughty Meraxes.” She scolded the black kitten cradled in her arms. “You’re not supposed to come in my room. Bad kitten.”

Meraxes nuzzled her chest and purred some, making her pout turn into a grin. Her fifth nameday was soon and she decided then and there to ask for a kitten of her own. Or a puppy.

She really wanted a dragon, like the ones she had been dreaming about. In those dreams she flew on the backs of dragons, waving down at the world below. Her dragon dreams always made her happy even though Viserys told her they were nonsense and she was simple for having them.

_I’m not simple… Vissy is just jealous he doesn’t fly when he sleeps._

That made her yawn as she rounded a corner where two empty suits of armor stood guard. The Red Keep was full of such things and the flickering of torches set the shadows to dancing. She kept away from them, a little fearful they could come alive and grab her.

Then they started whispering and she jumped in fright. It took a moment for her to realize it wasn’t the suits of armor talking. Someone else was. Many people, and they were shouting. The sounds of it echoing down the corridors to her ears. As she drew closer the voices started to sound familiar. These were voices she had known her whole life.

Voices she loved.

She came to a pair of heavy oak doors, one of which was ajar just enough for Dany and Meraxes to peak through. Within she saw at two-white cloaked Kingsguard knights and a number of people arguing.

None more important than the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

“This treason must be answered.” Rhaegar spoke with his iron tones, his gaze moving from person to person. His purple eyes burned from beneath the long, lovely hair hanging about his face. “Balon Greyjoy sets his longships to reaving, burns the Lannister fleet at anchor and names himself King of the Iron Islands. There is only one king in the Seven Kingdoms and I shall remind the Greyjoys of that personally.”

A chorus of disapproval rose up at that, one voice coming out clearer than the rest.

“Nonsense,” the queen spoke firmly. “Let others lead this fight.”

Dany wished her dolls could be as pretty as Shaena, who wore a gown of the deepest blue and had her hair done in a long platinum braid. Her sister stood just as tall as Rhaegar yet Shaena seemed more intimidating, for she was far stricter. The queen stood apart from all the others and not because she was the only woman. It was just a part of who Shaena was. When her older sister spoke, people listened.

Especially with the tone she used now. One she recognized and knew meant Rhaegar was in big trouble.

“It is for a king to command, others to obey.” Shaena challenged Rhaegar while gesturing to the others. “Crush the Greyjoys if you must, but do so from the Iron Throne. There’s any number of lords or knights you could send in your stead. Some in this room.”

“I stand ready,” Jon Connington grunted, his red hair as bright as the torches around. “Give me the ships and leave to do so, Rhaegar. Your will shall be done.”

Ser Barristan spoke up as well. “Grant me a command and I would gladly act in my king’s name. The Hand reports we can have the royal levies ready to sail within the week.”

“Good, for I shall sail with them.” Rhaegar held up a hand to stop Shaena’s argument. “Good men fought and died so I could wear this crown. I will not sit idle now that it comes time to defend my throne. Especially not when my brothers throw themselves into the fray.”

Connington frowned. “Viserys will only sail if I do. Trust that he won’t see much fighting if I have any say. The lad is not much of a squire and until I make him one, I won’t lose the charge you’ve given me.”

“See, Rhaegar? The ser knows what he is about,” Shaena pressed on. “Tywin Lannister is not like to risk Aegon either, not with our brother wed to his darling Cersei. When you sent Jaehaerys to squire for Baelor Hightower it was expected he might join with them in battle. Now they do so in your name. Fighting for their king. Safeguarding your realm, your life.”

“Shaena has a point, brother.” The second Kingsguard knight added gruffly. Muscular and broad-shouldered, his words came out with just as much strength. “The Greyjoys have already proven themselves as dangerous as they are treacherous. There’s no guarantee of victory.”

“There never was,” Rhaegar’s voice dipped some. “Yet we fight all the same. I want the ravens to fly across the realm. To Riverrun, Winterfell, Casterly Rock, as far as we can reach. Let all know their king will act when his subjects are threatened.”

“Then House Targaryen fights as one.” The Kingsguard offered his hand and Rhaegar took it, which made Dany smile a bit.

Until Meraxes fought free of her hold, the tiny kitten lunging down to the floor and bounding into the room with several loud meows. At first, all eyes went to the cat, and then to the open door it entered through. Finally, it was her they all looked upon, which set her to tugging at her nightgown and lowering her head sheepishly.

“ _Daenerys_.” Shaena spoke sharply, hand on her hip. “What do you think you are doing? Are you spying on us, young lady?”

“Meraxes woke me up.” She explained as Shaena opened the door and pulled her inside. “I think he got lost. He needed help to get back to Visenya’s room.”

“So you wandered the castle in the dead of night. With no minders… and no shoes! I raised you better. You’ll catch a chill.”

“Vissy says dragons don’t catch chills.”

That earned a frown from her sister and laughs from the Kingsguard knights. She was heartened when Rhaegar lifted her chin so she could see his smile. It was a warm smile, if just a little sad. His touch a gentle one and the closest she knew to that of a father’s.

“That’s just a saying, Daenerys.” Rhaegar explained. “Some believe us Targaryens to burn too hot for illness yet it’s only a fable. We’re just as mortal as the smallfolk in the city streets. Kings, queens, even little princesses, all have to be mindful of their health.”

Shaena raised an eyebrow at that. “A wise lesson, husband. One I beg you to heed before leaving to test your mettle against the Greyjoys. A far deadlier adversary than a chill.”

“Enough, Shaena. Do not speak to me as if I am one of the children.”

“Are you going on a trip?” She interrupted her brother and sister’s quarrel. “I want to come with you. Is it Dragonstone again? We can bring Meraxes-”

“No. Perhaps when I return we can do so, but for now I have matters to attend in the Iron Islands. All will be explained tomorrow, the only journey you need worry on is the one back to your bed.”

She didn’t want to go back to her room, there were a thousand questions left to ask. Before she could, the younger Kingsguard scooped up Meraxes and came her way.

“I’ll take her,” said Daeron said. He then lifted her up against his chest like she weighed but a feather. “Come now, _Silverbright_. Time to get all wayward princesses to bed.”

There was no arguing against that. Not with Daeron wearing his Kingsguard armor and carrying her about. Whenever he did so she felt a maiden from the songs. After Rhaegar and Shaena kissed her head, she pressed against the white enamel chest plate and gazed up at her older brother.

Daeron was the only one of her brothers to sport a beard, though his pale hair was the shortest of all them, kept just about his ears. She thought his face a handsome one, even with the scars.

The bones about Daeron’s left eye were misshapen and deep scars crossed through his flesh above and below. All said her brother was lucky not to have lost his eye in the fall yet Daeron had never ever called what remained of it a blessing. Where the young knight’s right eye was the lightest shade of lilac, his left showed little of that color. The iris there had broken so now a black slit took of much of his eye. Like that of a dragon’s.

 _The_ _Dragonseye_. That’s what people called Daeron.

It that eye she looked into as the knight carried her through the halls of their home.

“Are you going too?” She asked, biting her lip. “To the Iron Islands?”

Daeron nodded. “My place is with Rhaegar. Don’t worry, we shall be back before you know it.”

“You’ll miss my nameday. You promised.”

He hadn’t really but she was still pouting when Daeron kissed her brow, his whiskers tickling some.

“It can’t be helped, Daenerys. I was there when you were born, I’d be here for this if I could. We all would.”

“Not all of you. The others are far away.”

“They are, but I wager Rhaegar could get Jay to come back with us after all this is done. Egg too. Until then, trust that Shaena will make your party a fine affair, her children and Cersei’s boy will keep you company. There’ll be so many gifts and guests, you won’t even know we’re gone.”

“I would.” She laid her head against Daeron’s shoulder, closing her eyes. “If any of you weren’t here, I’d know.”

She couldn’t imagine life without her sister and brothers. Their mother died on Dragonstone the night Dany was born and she prayed each night for her. Their father was dead too, but he was a bad man and she didn’t like to think about him.

Other girls had parents but it was her siblings Dany had depended on for as long as she could remember. Rhaegar took care of them all and played his harp for her. Shaena taught her how to act a princess, picking out her gowns and seeing to her courtesies. Daeron watched over them and made her feel safe. Egg told jests and gave her the finest dresses. Jay sang her sleep with his soft voice.

And Viserys… well he told her about their family. The kinds of stories the others wouldn’t share.

About their father. About the rebellion.

The fire and blood.

**_THE UNTOLD TALE OF THE REBELLION  
_ ** _As recorded by Archmaester Marwyn_

_The rebellion began out of a series of missteps, though not all were by the Mad King._

_While much blame can be placed on shoulders of King Aerys, it was Prince Rhaegar who added fuel to the flames of his father’s madness. Aerys, already suspicious of his popular heir, was troubled by Rhaegar’s strange beliefs and actions. There was talk the king already thought to name one of his other sons as heir by the time the Tourney of Harrenhal was held._

_Some believe the tourney was a chance for Rhaegar and loyal lords to meet in preparation for ousting the king. Yet with Aerys in attendance, Rhaegar made no move to crown any save Lyanna Stark, who the married prince named as his Queen of Love and Beauty. That folly earned not only the ire of Princess Shaena and Robert Baratheon, but later caused Brandon Stark to suspect the prince in his sister’s abduction._

_At the time of Lyanna’s disappearance, Rhaegar himself was missing from the capital. By royal command, a party of Kingsguard were sent to find the wayward prince and deliver him back to the Red Keep. Sadly it would be Brandon and Rickard Stark who arrived in their stead. We all know that grim business._

_Brandon was named a traitor and his lord father demanded a trial by combat to free him._

_“Name a champion,” Lord Rickard told the king. “Let them face me, armored in plate and the truth of my cause.”_

_“What is armor to the flames of a dragon?” Aerys asked of his courtiers. “Fire has always been the true champion of House Targaryen.”_

 

_Thus the lord was burned alive before the eyes of hundreds, including his son, who strangled himself trying to free his father. The Mad King wanted this travesty to be a family affair and kept his youngest sons, Jaehaerys and Viserys, at his side the whole while. The princes, only boys at the time, were forced to watch the burning of Lord Rickard, who died screaming while their father laughed._

_As was customary for Aerys after such an execution, he sought out Queen Rhaella to take his rights of her. The king’s brutality during such visits was legend, the queen often left bloodied and bruised, her pleas for naught as the Kingsguard were sworn to Aerys first. Though some were willing to defend her._

_Rhaella was a regal figure in the realm, respected by many, but loved by none as deeply as her second son, Daeron. The prince dreamt of becoming the next Dragonknight and showed great promise. Young Daeron would squire for Ser Arthur Dayne and acquit himself well against the Kingswood Brotherhood. Rhaella wore her son’s deeds as badges of pride, yet in a rare act anguish, failed to conceal from Daeron the marks Aerys left her after the burning of the wolves._

_Perhaps this assault was more vicious than others. More likely Daeron finally felt old enough to do something about it. Either way, the enraged prince, at only ten and four, came before the Iron Throne to act in a way lords far older and more powerful never had. He denounced his father and king._

_“Admit your crime!” Daeron shouted from the foot of the throne. “To treat my mother in this way! You act less a king and more a beast!”_

_“I need no one’s leave to take my rights,” Aerys responded from high upon the iron monstrosity. “Last night your mother shared the bed with a beast. The most powerful kind. A dragon. A dragon that takes what it will and will do so again. To both their pleasures.”_

_The king acted as if this was some bawdy jest, laughing and bidding others to do so. Prince Daeron did not laugh. The young man, to the shock of many, climbed the steps of the throne. Only one Kingsguard stood watch before it, Ser Jaime Lannister, a friend to the prince since their days of squiring together. It may have been that friendship which held the knight back from stopping the prince’s challenge._

_When Aerys stood to meet his son’s coming he soon regretted earning Daeron’s ire. Though not yet a man, Daeron was built well and stronger for it, easily knocking his king back into the throne in a rage._

_“Never again! Hear me, father. You’re no dragon, just a man like any other. Act a king to her or else.”_

_While Aerys quailed in terror before his son, Ser Jaime ascended the throne to try and pull Daeron away. The prince calmed some at his friend’s arrival, turning his attention away from his father. Having been humiliated by his own son and saved by Tywin Lannister’s something terrible stirred within Aerys. In a rage the king attacked the prince, pushing Daeron away with all his might._

_The Iron Throne was built tall, its stairs as treacherous as its blades. Thus the prince’s fall was a terrible thing to witness, let alone to endure. Daeron would fall  face first onto the hard edge of a stair. More stairs would follow and the tumble broke several bones and left the prince at death’s door._

_Not even Aerys could absolve himself of his actions, and twice he tried to attend Daeron’s bedside where the queen stood vigil. Rhaella barred her husband’s way each time, with her remaining sons clutched about her. Young Aegon tried to reason with his parents but Rhaella would not abide Aerys being near Daeron as he writhed in agony._

_“I suffered your ravages, years upon years of them,” The queen is known to have said. “Not my children. Never them. I’ll face your fires before I let you near them again.”_

_It was shortly after that Ser Arthur Dayne returned with Prince Rhaegar. While the blood had been washed away and the stench of burnt flesh gone from the throne room, the Red Keep still rang with the sounds of Daeron’s screams and Queen Rhaella’s weeping._

_Whether it was his father’s madness or his mother’s urging that drove Rhaegar to rebel is still debated to this day. What is known is that a rebellion was already underway. Flouting a royal decree, Lord Jon Arryn refused to turn over his charges, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon, and called his banners instead._

_Gulltown had fallen to the forces of House Arryn, allowing Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon to sail on to the North and Stormlands to rally their supporters. Yet when Robert arrived at Storm’s End he found his betrothed awaiting him instead. The long missing Lyanna Stark resurfaced at the Baratheon castle, claiming to have been abducted by the bandit and rogue known as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. After a miraculous escape, the lady sought out the protection of her betrothed and vengeance for her murdered kin. Elated by her miraculous escape, Robert denied Lyanna neither._

_“Give me your hand in marriage and I shall take up my hammer with the other,” Robert told his lady love. “If I’m to avenge Rickard and Brandon, let me do so as a kinsman. You came here a Stark, stay now as a Baratheon.”_

_There were whispers that Lyanna had not welcomed her match to Robert. Something must have changed in the northern beauty during those missing weeks, for Lady Lyanna wed Lord Robert with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. The couple had but a few short nights together before Robert departed for war, sufficient enough to leave Lyanna with child._

_Whilst Robert fought his own bannermen and those of House Tyrell, Prince Rhaegar was sent from the capital by Aerys to raise an army of his own. With Elia Martell and her husband Baelor Hightower held hostage at court, the Mad King was guaranteed the support of both Dorne and Oldtown. Rhaegar looked elsewhere for men willing to fight. Just not for his father, rather for House Targaryen itself._

_Most of the war waged between the distinct royalist and rebel factions. Those loyal to Aerys and the Iron Throne, others standing with the alliance of the four great families, Arryn, Baratheon, Stark and Tully._

_Until the Battle of the Trident. When the two sides converged at the crossing of Green Fork, they found a third force awaiting them. An army loyal to Rhaegar, made of lords and knights who held him to be the new king. A claim backed by the Conningtons, Daynes, Darrys, Whents and a host of others._

_With their support Rhaegar appealed to both sides to lay down their arms._

_“A council must be held, not a battle,” Rhaegar told both friend and foe. “My father’s crimes, the madness that consumes him, they have left him unfit to rule. May this council of lords rule on that so I can deliver justice to those wronged by House Targaryen.”_

_With this declaration the prince made himself a rebel, an ally that cause welcomed to win the day. Rhaegar’s popularity caused the royalist army to split and those that followed Aerys were crushed in the ensuing battle. The Kingsguard Ser Jonothor Darry fought against his prince and kinsmen that day, preferring to fall by Robert’s warhammer than bend the knee as a traitor._

_When word of Rhaegar’s treachery reached the capital, Aerys flew into a fury. The pregnant Queen Rhaella took the king’s remaining sons and departed the Red Keep quickly with for Dragonstone. To her sorrow she was forced to abandon her daughter, for the king wished to keep Princess Shaena and her children as hostages. It was just as likely he meant to punish his daughter for her husband’s actions, as he did to scores throughout the capital he thought loyal to Rhaegar._

_Everywhere the Mad King looked he found good men opposed to his rule. Even members of his own Kingsguard._

_While Aerys burned men alive before the Iron Throne, three knights scaled the walls of Maegor’s Holdfast in service to a new king. They were storied men before this deed. Ser Gerold Hightower, the Whitebull, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and Ser Oswell Whent, his humor as dark as the bat on his helm. The three were able to smuggle away Princess Shaena and her children through much of the castle before an alarm was raised._

_Ser Jaime Lannister led the guard who came upon the rebel Kingsguard and their charges. In Ser Jaime’s confusion to find his sworn brothers guilty of abducting the crown princess, Shaena was able to spirit her children away through a secret passage. She would surely have been captured had the Kingsguard not stood their ground._

_Ser Jaime was backed by a score of men-at-arms and more crossbowmen aiming down from the walls. He tried to reason with his sworn brothers. To remind them of their vows to the king._

_“We swore a vow,” Ser Gerold told the younger knight. Ser Oswell would bare his steel in agreement._

_“To a king good and true.”_

_“And now it begins,” Ser Arthur Dayne is recorded as saying before unsheathing his greatsword, Dawn._

_Many lives were ended in the fight to follow. The three Kingsguard taking five men with them before falling to the blades and bolts of their foes. Whether Ser Jaime spilled any blood himself was deemed less important than Princess Shaena’s escape._

_Aerys decreed his punishment would be to personally impale the severed heads of the three Kingsguard upon spikes. He wanted them placed along the bridge to Maegor’s Holdfast, a grim mockery of the tradition that a Kingsguard must always guard that crossing._

_“They forgot their duties in life,” Aerys spoke to any who would listen. “Let them stand watchful in death. My servants for ever more.”_

_It was another man Aerys once named his servant who soon arrived in the king’s darkest hour._

_Far ahead of Rhaegar and his rebel allies, Lord Tywin Lannister arrived King’s Landing at the city gates with a host of his own. The Mad King, in one of his final mistakes, allowed the Lannisters into the city, only for the lions to seize it in Rhaegar’s name._

_Aerys remained defiant within the castle, having prepared for such a day when all his fears would be proven true. His pyromancers had labored long and hard to furnish the Mad King with enough wildfire, hidden throughout the city, to reduce King’s Landing and its populace to ash. In a final mad act of vengeance, Aerys made to punish the Lannisters and all other traitors by commanding the pyromancers to burn the city and the untold thousands within it._

_“Ill give them naught but ashes,” Aerys raged. “Let Rhaegar be king over charred bones and meat!”_

_None of those cruel commands ever left the Red Keep, for Ser Jaime Lannister slew the pyromancers before they could do the Mad King’s bidding. The knight then turned his blade on the king he swore to protect._

_While his actions spared the city itself, little chivalry is attached to Ser Jaime’s deeds, indeed he would henceforth be known as the Kingslayer. His detractors believe this all a plot by Lord Tywin, and that the knight was doing his father’s bidding. Though it was known Ser Jaime wished to depart with Rhaegar after the maiming of Prince Daeron._

_Whatever the reasons, when Prince Rhaegar arrived in the throne room, he found his father dead with Ser Jaime’s blade stained red with his blood._

_More death followed, some of the most tragic coming after the fighting ended._

_After the capture of the capital, Eddard Stark joined Robert Baratheon to break the Tyrell siege of Storm’s End. Their reunion with Lady Lyanna was far from a sweet one. The lords found the lady ailing after birthing Robert his son and heir. A child Robert ignored in his desperation to save Lyanna, missing even her last words as he raged at the healers to help her. The lady died with her brother and son by her side, weeping tears of blood._

_“This is their fault,” Robert cursed in his grief. “The dragons. That whole bloody family! I was meant to be with her. By her side. If I had known what little time we had I’d spent the days laying with her in a field of flowers, not fighting beneath the banners of the Targaryens.”_

_Even the might of Robert’s rage could not compare with the storm that battered Dragonstone during the birth of Princess Daenerys. When news of Aerys’s death reached Dragonstone, his sons were divided. Daeron, now free of his bed rest, and a possible claimant to the throne his brother had stolen, was said not to have blinked before proclaiming where his loyalties lay._

_“Rhaegar is our king now,” Daeron told his brothers. “We haven’t had a proper king in years and he’ll do what’s right. Jaime Lannister acted a hero in ridding the realm of that madman.”_

_“You can’t call father that!” Viserys rose to Aerys’s defense, his brother Aegon joining him._

_“That’s a king you speak of.” Young Aegon said, the quick witted prince chiding Daeron with his gilded tongue. “Whatever his faults, father was that. Anointed by the Seven, holder of many titles. Show some respect to his memory.”_

_The Dragonseye did not blink. “Piss on him and his memory.”_

_The princes’ words would turn to blows, a quarrel which ended only after Prince Jaehaerys alerted the guard. When the meeker prince brought his worries about the fight to the queen, she shared his fears for the future of their family._

_In one of her last acts as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Rhaella Targaryen commanded her sons to keep the peace between them and to serve their new king. After years of abuse and the nearly losing a son at the hands of her husband, the queen surely welcomed news of Aerys’s death. The gods are cruel though, for Rhaella would live only long enough to welcome her last child into the world._

_One she entrusted into the care of her eldest son. Just as lords across the Seven Kingdoms gave over their fealty to the new king. With his sister-wife named a queen, his brothers all swearing vows of loyalty, Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne to begin his glorious rule._

_King Rhaegar Targaryen,_ _First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm._

**DAENERYS  
**_-298-_

Before her sister even spoke, she knew she’d lost the argument.

“I do not trust him.” Shaena said, lifting her chin in a haughty manner. “It will not do, thus I forbid it.”

The dismissal was so blunt she was caught with her mouth agape. Shaena could have that effect and not because she was in the middle of being dressed. The sisters stood in the middle of the queen’s expansive chambers, Dany watching as Shaena’s lady attendants readied her for the day. Allyria Dayne, Desmera Redwyne, Ysilla Royce, all ladies of import yet not a one of them dawdled in dressing the queen. Shaena was always mindful of everything being done, and soon caught sight of her reaction.

“Do close your mouth, Daenerys. You are a princess, not a fish.”

“Why can’t I go?” She asked. “I’ve gone on rides and hunts before, you never stopped me then.”

“I had no reason to stop you before,” Shaena replied. “I told you these times were coming since the day you flowered. The days of playing a little girl are done.”

The queen gave her an appraising look and this time she kept her lips pressed together as confusion set it. Her first moon blood had come months ago and she’d been on hunts and rides since. Something else was going on and she wanted to know what it was. So when Desmera made to dab rosewater upon Shaena’s cheeks, Dany took the lady’s place. As a little girl she had delighted in helping her older sister dress, yet she resolved to act a woman as she touched the damp cloth across Shaena’s high cheek bones.

“Sister, it’s only Theon.” She said as she worked. “He’s been Rhaegar’s ward for nearly ten years and he’s my friend. Talla and Gael will be with us and Theon promised to help me shoot any game we come across.”

“Oh my sweet girl. There’s only one prize Greyjoy seeks these days and it’s not some silly stag. He eyes you for a bride and will use seduction to win what Rhaegar would surely deny. Think, Daenerys, you must have noticed the change.”

She wanted to call that nonsense yet she couldn’t. Of late Theon had sought her out more often, inviting her to the archery yard where once he mocked her for following. His smirks were constant but lately flattery had accompanied them. Attempts to share wine with her in the godswood, asking her to dance in the hall.

“He has been… kinder of late.” She admitted, causing Shaena to smile and the taller woman to kiss her brow.

“Kindness can blind us as surely as the darkness itself. Bad things happen when we let ourselves be led by our love and compassion alone. Theon might not mean you harm yet wants you for his own uses all the same.”

That angered her. “Daeron told me never to trust a Greyjoy and I wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“Our brother can speak sense when he sheathes his sword long enough to allow it. Now, instead of a hunt, you can join me at the Maidenvault. There’s a new bard all of court is talking of. Some performer Petyr Baelish had brought in, a gift we will indulge because it will lull him-”

Shaena paused then, eyeing her ladies with suspicion. An expression gone as quick as it came, a smile stretching across her face.

“Where are your ladies? Have them sent for at once. They can delight in this singer with us and then we can speak of potential suitors for my little sister.”

She blushed at the idea like it was one of Theon’s jests. Thankfully it had disappeared from her face by the time Shaena’s retinue departed her rooms to where two knights of the Kingsguard awaited. The chest and arms of Ser Balon Swann were large with muscle while Ser Robar Royce offered a smile as bright as the summer’s day. Usually Dany would grin back but Shaena had unnerved her some, making her suspicious of smiles.

Ser Robar was merely being courteous, just as most young lords and knights treated her. Some would say she was the image of her royal mother. Or Shaena, if her sister happened to be in earshot. The sort of flattery she’d first seen visited upon her niece Visenya.

_A man who names me the realm’s delight likely did the same to Visenya before._

_And they’ll proclaim such things to my cousin Myrcella soon enough._

Shaena made it clear there was no lack of men seeking a princess. Most of the suitors the queen listed were little more than names to Daenerys, men she scarcely knew. None would call Quentyn Martell comely but she found him quite kind during his short visit. Willas Tyrell was older and hobbled yet a charming sort. Not as handsome or dashing as his younger brother Loras, whose name Shaena left off the list. Then there was Edric Dayne, either of the Redwyne Twins, a squire named Harry Hardyng…

”It’s just all too much.” She complained upon the bridge of Maegor’s Holdfast. When Shaena laughed the dry moat and iron spikes below echoed with the sound.

“Oh, Daenerys. You’ve no idea. There’s more than that lot, most who do not merit mention at all. At least five Freys if my memory serves.”

“Does all this talk need to happen now? Visenya’s years older than me and she’s not matched. Nor Aegon or Joffrey.”

“As far as you know,” Shaena said in a cryptic manner. “The throne need not reveal all its dealings until it is good and ready. Since you children were babes we’ve thought on which matches might strengthen our house. These are the way things are, and truly you’ve no right to complain. Rhaegar merely entertains offers for your hand, he’s in no hurry to accept any. I was betrothed by my first name day, to my brother no less.”

Her sister’s voice had a tinge of bitterness towards the end. She couldn’t imagine being forced to wed any of her brothers and felt grateful it had never been proposed. Even so, it was hard to imagine Rhaegar and Shaena married to anyone else. They were the handsomest couple in the realm. They doted upon their children and Dany as well and between the royal couple never lasted long. As far as she saw it, Rhaegar and Shaena were meant for each other.

There was no reason to put much not stock in rumors which said differently. How Rhaegar and Shaena’s hearts belonged to others when they wed.

_The nonsense with Lyanna Stark at Harrenhal. The whispers of how Arthur Dayne wept behind his helm during Shaena’s vows._

_All nonsense. Lies about people long since dead._

Shaena was more interested in the living, speaking once more of Harry Hardyng like nothing had happened. She was giving a lesson on the complicated history of House Arryn, and who stood to inherit after Lord Arryn and his sickly son.

It was an easy thing to be distracted by the ringing of swords coming from the training yard. Many spectators had gathered there and she caught sight of her ladies among them.

Talla Tarly was the eldest of the three, a dark-haired maiden whose large ears often grew red after some wine. Closest in age to her was the plump and cheerful Gael Wendwater, who had the young Elinor Hightower giggling so that her eyes watered. She saw her chance, and though Talla and Gael saw her coming, neither warned Elinor, who jumped high when she grabbed at the girl’s sides with a growl.

“Who did that?!” Elinor pushed tumble of blonde curls away from her black, Dornish eyes. “Oh, Dany! Why must you scare me so?”

“Because she’s a dragon.” Gael laughed while Talla rolled her pale eyes.

“Really, Elly. A fearsome duel rages before us and you get scared by our princess.”

“Sorry, dear.” She took Elinor’s hand and patted it gently. “Next time we shall scare Gael together. Sound fair?” Gael made an aggrieved sound at that but her focus was already wandering to yard. “Now who could be dueling to draw such a crowd?”

A thrill came over her to recognize the combatants. To the amusement of the crowd, two of the Kingsguard were sparring in full armor. Though with the ferocity that Daeron and Jaime Lannister came at each other, she thought it a true battle.

Ser Jaime donned white mail with gold plating, his helm a lion’s head. Her brother’s armor was more uniform, save for the iron dragon rising from his helm, its mouth snarling and wings outstretched. The helm had been a gift from Rhaegar, which Daeron had spoiled by etching a deep line down the part of the visor near his left eye and painting the scar black.

“So even when my visor is down, none forget the Dragonseye still watches,” Daeron was fond of saying.

All watched as her brother and Ser Jaime traded blows. Their blades moved swiftly, the steel singing with every clash, each man grunting from the effort. Yet sprinkled among the sounds of battle came laughter, for both men were enjoying themselves. To them this was some game, a dangerous one she didn’t quite see the appeal of. Most at court were more confounded by Daeron’s friendship with the Kingslayer. Theon was one of those who found it odd, yet that did not dissuade him from acting one of the onlookers in the yard.

She made to hide behind her ladies only to find Shaena now beside her, flanked by Ser Balon and Ser Robar.

“They act like children, not men of the Kingsguard.” Shaena sighed. “Daeron should know better, he was taught by the best.”

“He is the best.” Dany defended her brother as he fended off another strike. “After Ser Barristan, of course. There’s no other I’d have as my champion... not to say you’re not great warriors, sers.”

“Prince Daeron is a skilled swordsman, your grace.” Ser Robar answered with a nod and Ser Balon agreed.

“Many have paid with their lives to learn the truth of that.”

“Not enough,” said Shaena absently, her eyes following the duel.

It had taken a turn, Ser Jaime having lost his footing and fallen to a knee. The Lannister knight was at the mercy of her brother, yet Daeron held his place, allowing his sworn brother to rise. The Kingslayer rewarded Daeron by launching a new attack against him, even as Talla and others clapped at the display of mercy.

An applause the queen scorned.

“Gods the fool,” said Shaena. “Such chivalry is wasted on the likes of that man. As is the white cloak.”

“Daeron says Ser Jaime is a true knight-”

“Do not speak to me of true knights.” Shaena’s eyes were burning. “The finest that ever lived died saving me and my children while that Lannister stood by and watched. He only found his courage when his father’s army was near and he stood against unarmed men. _True knight_ indeed.”

This was an old wound and she did not dare add salt to it. Unfortunately Ser Jaime unwittingly did so by besting Daeron only a few moments later, knocking Daeron’s sword aside and placing his own against her brother’s neck.

“I beg you, refuse to yield.” Jaime pulled free his helm, his golden hair tumbling free. “Let me end you, here and now. I am sick of looking at that wretched face of yours.”

“My apologies then,” said Daeron. He wrenched off his own helm and winked with his ruined eye. “For I’m not quite through tormenting you with it. I yield, Ser Stumbles.”

The two men parted to more applause and she caught Theon begrudgingly handing over some gold coins to Lancel Lannister. He followed that by interrupting Daeron and Jaime’s jesting, smirking the whole while.

“You just cost me decent coin, ser.” Theon acted bereaved. “Victory was yours, it was a real feat to see you snatch defeat from its jaws. How did you do it?”

“Confused, kraken?” Daeron’s good cheer disappeared all at once. “It’s no surprise to learn things like honor and mercy are lost on a Greyjoy.”

Theon flushed red. “Mercy? It’s quaint to hear you speak of such. What mercy did you show at Pyke? To my brother Maron?”

“I show mercy to those worthy of it, not treasonous scum. I cut your brother down same as any who dare take up a blade against my family. Be thankful he died by the sword, better that than the noose he deserved.”

Theon took a step forward but found Ser Jaime barring his path, the knigh pushing back at his chest.

“Careful, lad. No one likes a sore loser.” The Lannister shot a grin over his shoulder at Daeron. “Or a cruel one. Be honest with him, Daeron, his brother fought well.”

“Not well enough. Away with you, Greyjoy. I’m sure there’s a dim-witted serving girl that needs pestering.”

“Actually I await the company of Princess Daenerys.” Theon’s smirk returned, his voice thick with scorn. “We’re to hunt together-”

“You are mistaken.” Shaena spoke sharply, alerting all to their presence and bringing the whole yard to its knees. The queen took hold of Dany’s arm, leading her to stand right above Theon before she bid all to rise. “The royal princess shall attend me in the Maidenvault, you’d forgive her for choosing better company, of course?”

“Of course.” Theon grumbled, not able to meet Dany’s gaze.

“Perhaps another day, Theon.” She tried to ease his embarrassment even though she was cross with him. “If you take a stag, you must share it with us. You could brag about it gracing the king’s plate.”

“The way he boasts it’ll become an elephant before the day is out.” Daeron turned his angry eye to Theon again. “Go off on your hunt then. I expect you’ll be guarded?”

“No doubt.” Theon snarled before bowing to the women and leaving the yard in a huff.

“Why must you be so mean to him?” She asked when Theon was out of earshot. “He’s far from his family and all he knows, would it be so hard to treat him kindly?”

“Getting that lad away from his family was a kindness.” Daeron took her hand and kissed it. “You’re too soft, Silverbright. If it makes you happy, I shall refrain from beating the Greyjoy in public.”

“There goes this evening’s entertainment.” Ser Jaime laughed and Shaena wrinkled her nose.

“I’d be content if you both bathed before taking up your duties. Is this how the Kingswood Brotherwood was brought low? Ser Arthur Dayne smoked them out with the stink of you two?”

“Sounds about right.” Daeron shrugged. “Our next stop is the bathhouse, dear sister. If we have our queen’s leave.”

They did and soon both knights were gone, Dany feeling a pang of jealousy at how Ser Jaime set Daeron to laughing a moment later. Few save her could put Daeron in such good cheer. To others he was grim and fearsome, known for the killing of traitors. To her, he was the knight who used to carry a little girl about on his shoulders. The prince who gifted a princess her first pony. The brother who swore a little sister was the finest gift their mother had ever given him.

A brother second in her heart only to the one who met the queen’s party outside the Maidenvault.

Rhaegar’s retinue was so large it blocked their path, a number of Tyrell men among the many flatterers. People were always crowding about Rhaegar, bafflingly ignorant to how much he disdained such attention. His handsome garb likely distracted some, the king decorated in sable and crimson silk, with high black boots and a slender band of gold about his brow. The pleasant expression he bore seemed forced until he caught sight of them.

“My love.” Rhaegar greeted Shaena with a respectful kiss to her hand before planting two upon Dany’s cheeks. “Oberyn said I might find you here. Our friends of Tyrell bring us glad tidings from Highgarden.”

“Good news of my son, I hope.”

Dany hoped the same, for she missed Aegon as well. Others clearly felt the same, for she caught how Talla’s face brightened at her nephew’s mention. Both her friend and Shaena looked expectantly towards the party of Tyrells stepping forward, led by Garth Tyrell.

Uncle to Lord Mace, the fat old man wiped at his sweaty brow and puffed out his chest as if to call more attention to the golden rose upon it.

“Queen Shaena, we only just arrived from Oldtown but could not wait to attend you. My nephew bid me to speak of your beloved son, Prince Aegon, who-” Garth started before turning to Dany. “Oh, and Mace’s heir sends along regards to the Princess Daenerys as well. Willas wishes you well, princess, and does hope you visit Highgarden again one day.”

“That be lovely. I do ask to travel-”

“My lord,” Shaena interrupted. “I am quite anxious to hear how Aegon fairs among the roses.”

“He grows strong,” said Garth. “Mace takes great pride in his charge, be assured that your son thrives at Highgarden. The royal heir enjoys the best of steeds and noblest of company, I can say Garlan and Loras have taken great interest in Prince Aegon’s instruction with the sword. On days of leisure, he sails the Mander upon pleasure barges, enjoying my great niece Margaery’s skill at the high harp.”

“A splendid report.” Shaena allowed Garth to kiss her hand, looking quite pleased. “We surely chose well in entrusting Aegon to the care of House Tyrell.”

 _She means she chose well_ , she thought, _it was Shaena’s idea to send Aegon to Highgarden._

“I wonder who will have the better stories when they return,” said Dany. “Highgarden is wondrous but I do so envy Visenya her tour of the Free Cities.”

“Yes, the prince told us of his sister’s… adventure.” Garth touched his hands in thought. “Travel across the Narrow Sea is a daunting prospect.”

“One my daughter was well prepared for.” Rhaegar ignored Shaena’s sharp look his way. “A large party travels with her. Visenya has her septa, ladies and servants to mind her. My former squire Ser Richard Lonmouth ensures her safety with a company of guardsmen and a Kingsguard knight. A letter came from Volantis only two weeks past, from Volantis, where Visenya is hosted by one of their triarchs and all are in good health.”

Shaena had plenty to say about the dangers of such travel yet Elinor stole Dany’s attention away.

“Is a triarch like a king?” The girl whispered to the other ladies.

“No, there’s three triarchs and they only rule a short while.” Talla quietly replied, shocking Dany some with her wisdom. “What? My brother Sam read about Volantis in a book. He told me all about it before he went away…”

Her friend quieted then, for Samwell Tarly did not enjoy the pleasures of Highgarden and Volantis. It was no secret Lord Tarly had forced his eldest son to the Wall. Talla always became upset when any of this came up and Dany was always at a loss for what to say.

_At least Talla’s father didn’t maim her brother for life. Or burn people alive._

_Lord Tarly never had half the realm wanting to kill his whole family._

“Baratheon.”

Gael’s squeak grabbed their attention, for the lady was biting her lip and pointing to the retinue, where many still waited patiently to be addressed.

“Look, it’s a Baratheon.” Gael continued. “Right there, Lord Renly I think.”

“A Baratheon at court?” She didn’t believe it.

Yet there a Baratheon stood. A tall and handsome one with thick black hair which fell to his shoulders. She instantly knew Gael was right in naming him Renly Baratheon, even though she’d only seen the lord a handful of times. That still made him the Baratheon most well known to her, since she’d only glimpsed Stannis once and Lord Robert not at all. House Baratheon was infamous for scorning court and being seen as a step away restarting the rebellion.

Yet when Renly caught the ladies staring, he acted friendly enough, smiling her way. That was when Shaena noted him as well.

“Lord Renly, when did you arrive at court?” Shaena looked between him and Rhaegar, who made to wave Renly forward.

“Only just this morning.” Renly threw aside his fine green cloak in a bow. “On behalf of my brother and our noble family. A trip too long in coming, if I might be so bold as to say.”

“I could not have said it better.” Rhaegar nodded. “We let past mistakes divide us for too long. Lord Renly’s visit will hopefully help bridge that gulf between Storm’s End and the Iron Throne.”

Renly smiled again. “Our hopes are the same, your grace. I suspect my brother will be quite pleased to hear the reports I will soon send. Of finding a friend in our king…” The lord bowed again to Dany and her ladies. “And such magnificent beauties gracing his court. ”

His charm had Talla and Gael blushing but was lost on Shaena, who acted incredulous.

“This is Robert Baratheon you speak of?” Shaena scoffed. “The Lord of Storm’s End has called my husband many things, but never a friend.”

“Old wounds, soon forgotten,” said Rhaegar. “In short rime, a rapprochement will be sealed between our two houses before the eyes of court. In coming year I hope to host Robert within these walls, to set aside the past and drink to the future.”

“A cause for celebration.” She spoke sincerely, drawing all eyes to her. “It will be good to welcome Lord Baratheon back to the court. Our families once held the greatest regard for one another. Did Aegon the Conqueror not depend on Orys Baratheon? Are we not kin?”

“That we are, through the Princess Rhaelle.” Renly replied. “My compliments to your tutors, princess.”

“And mine to Lord Robert, who we eagerly await.”

She rarely spoke so freely with her siblings about but Shaena was right, things were changing. Dany wasn’t a little girl anymore, her family had raised her to be a princess and she would be the sort that repaid their care and protection. When she looked to Shaena she found her sister appearing torn between wishing to chide or commend her. Renly seemed pleased, nodding her way.

Even Rhaegar was regarding her in a strange manner. Not in a harsh or disapproving way, rather a somewhat hopeful one.

“I’m glad you think so, Daenerys.” Rhaegar hooked a finger under her chin. “Such optimism will be sorely needed when Robert Baratheon arrives. There are important arrangements to be made between us.” His dark indigo eyes glimmered in the daylight. “Our two families will finally be reconciled. A peace forged so the next generation need not suffer our follies.”

Whispers of surprise went up around them as Shaena’s face fell. All which was ignored by Rhaegar, who only had eyes for her.

“A better future is coming yet is our visitors who shall arrive first. It is here Robert will meet the heirs to Winterfell and Storm’s End, who already journey from the North.”

Her lessons often focused on the great families of the realm, so the names came to her with all ease absent her troubled mind.

“Winterfell’s heir? That would be Robb Stark, son of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn Tully.” She paused some to speak the second, for Shaena was already upset “And heir to Storm’s End is Jon Baratheon, the only son of Lyanna Stark and-”

“Robert Baratheon.” Rhaegar winced to say. “Yes, his son comes to share our hearth and home.”

“And we shall treat him as dearly as family.”


	3. The Grand Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past demons. Present desires. Future ambitions.

**Two Rebellions, Two Weddings  
** _The marriages of Aegon and Jaehaerys Targaryen_

_After Rhaegar’s Rebellion, the survival of the new king’s reign was anything but certain._

_Though a good number of royalist lords had stayed loyal to Aerys until his end, the rebels were the greater threat. Many lords had become united in their disdain of House Targaryen thanks to the reckless actions of the Mad King and his melancholic heir. To placate the North, one of Rhaegar’s first acts as king was to have the bones of Brandon and Rickard Stark returned to Winterfell. At the suggestion of Queen Shaena, Jon Arryn was named Hand of the King to bring the Vale on side._

_Another concern was House Lannister, for Lord Tywin had the gold and men to make or break the new king. To tame the lions, a previous folly would need to be mended. For years Lord Tywin had sought a prince to wed his daughter, Cersei, the fairest maiden in the west. Rhaegar or Daeron would have sufficed, yet the Mad King spurned these ambitions indelicately. With the Mad King dead, it was rumored that Rhaegar would give the Lord of Casterly Rock what he wanted; a marriage between Prince Daeron and Lady Cersei._

_Yet it was not to be. While once comely to the eye, Daeron’s injuries had left him hideously scarred. It was widely known at Casterly Rock that Cersei refused to wed a man who, in her words, “was more a grotesque than a prince.”_

_Daeron also scorned the idea of a marriage, for the prince wished to serve the throne as more than a bridegroom. Mindful of his loyal brother’s wishes, Rhaegar promised Daeron a place on the Kingsguard as soon as he became a knight and a place opened up in the noble order._

_After rewarding his brother, Rhaegar still needed to find a prince for Lady Cersei. So the king offered the Lannister his second brother Aegon, or Egg as his family called him. Held to be the most amiable of Queen Rhaella’s sons and very bright for his age, Prince Aegon had long been enraptured with Cersei’s golden beauty. The lady’s feelings on wedding a boy of three and ten are subject to much gossip, though if she raised any concerns to Lord Tywin, they fell on deaf ears._

_In the end, the new king and Lord Tywin would have their bargain, and in 284 AC, Prince Aegon wed Lady Cersei, a woman grown and five years his elder._

_The young husband denied his wife nothing, even arranging for her twin, Ser Jaime, to act as their Kingsguard despite Aegon’s ill will toward the Kingslayer. Such efforts bore fruit and two years into their marriage, Cersei birthed their first son. In celebration, King Rhaegar bestowed the castles Whitegrove and Dunstonbury upon his brother. Respectable titles to be certain, yet far more modest than Cersei desired._

_She had likely heard how Rhaegar planned to present grander gifts upon them until he was convinced otherwise by his queen. Few disdained the presence of the Lannister twins at court more than Queen Shaena. The balance of power established between King Rhaegar and Lord Tywin did not extend to court, which became dominated by Shaena and Cersei’s rivalry. A battle of wills and influences between a queen and the princess who acted like one._

_This was the first grand marriage ushered in by Rhaegar’s reign._

_The second followed in the aftermath of the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Lord Balon Greyjoy gambled and lost in his bid to crown himself. Great deeds were done when the walls of Pyke fell, and all know the heroic actions of men like Thoros of Myr, the first to charge into the castle with his flaming sword. Yet it was the second warrior through the breech who would inspire the grandest of songs._

_Prince Jaehaerys, a squire of five and ten, was long considered the least impressive of Aerys’s progeny. The Mad King was heard to say the prince’s quiet ways and tender heart made him “more a mouse than a dragon.” A claim proven false on Pyke, where Jaehaerys is said to have fought like the Warrior himself. During the battle the prince slew no less than two knights and captured Harren Botley, the heir to Lordsport._

_To honor such brave feats, Rhaegar knighted Jaehaerys amidst the broken, smoking ruins of Pyke. A scene which prompted the wounded Prince Daeron to declare, “A boy came to this island. A dragon leaves it.”_

_In celebration of the victory over the Greyjoys, a tourney was thrown at Lannisport. Those lords and knights who missed the fighting in the Iron Islands flocked to the tourney to share in the glory. The lists swelled with names of noble challengers, yet nary a Targaryen was among them. As king, Rhaegar was kept from the lists, crushing the hearts of many a young maiden. More were disappointed by the absence of the Dragonseye, who had not yet recovered from his duel with Maron Greyjoy. Viserys, a squire still and unbloodied during the rebellion, was not given leave to take part. While Viserys raged to be denied so, his brother Aegon was content to remain a spectator with excuses about his wife's second pregnancy._

_Only the newly knighted Jaehaerys entered the lists. Despite his recent display of ability on the battlefield, many believed the prince would lose quickly against more seasoned tourney knights. Yet one woman held faith with the prince, Elia Martell, a princess of Dorne and wife to Ser Baelor Hightower, who Jaehaerys had squired for._

_“He might surprise you,” the princess declared to the king. “His voice is sweet, his soul is gentle, and I believe his lance is as true as his heart.”_

_Some heard wisdom in the princess' words, mostly among the commons, but the attending lords laughed her off. The laughter died away as Jaehaerys, armed with the favor of Lady Lynesse Hightower, Ser Baelor's younger sister, bested one opponent after another. The Lords Jason Mallister and Bronze Yohn Royce were unhorsed by the youth, as were the knights Lyle Crakehall and Hosteen Frey. All in Lannisport rose to their feet when the young prince bested Ser Jaime Lannister in the final tilt and they roared louder still to see Jaehaerys name Lady Lynesse his Queen of Love and Beauty._

_The prince cared little for the gold promised to the victor and instead begged Lord Hightower and the king for leave to wed Lynesse. Her lord father raised no objection and Rhaegar consented. A few short weeks later Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen and Lady Lynesse Hightower were wed in the Sept of Baelor._

_And so two powerful families were bound to the noble Targaryen line, their fealty to the throne was now held to be as sacrosanct as their vows of love and matrimony._

**JAIME  
** _Castle Darry_

This was the type of fucking he lived for.

Cersei’s legs wrapped his waist, his hand mauling her full breast, pulling at each stiff nipple he found. The way her fingers scratched at his back, urging his cock to slam harder into her tight embrace.

“Quiet,” she grunted after a hard thrust. “Jaime, not so loud.”

To make her point she buried his face into her sweet-smelling mane of hair. Jaime was scarcely able to breathe through those sweet golden locks, a drowning any man would welcome.

_She’s not for any man. She’s not even for her husband._

_We’ve always been for each other. Always._

Jaime thanked the gods again that Cersei’s fool of a husband had brought him along to Castle Darry. They were rutting in one of Lord Darry’s servant’s cells while most of the castle feasted in the man’s hall. Egg was likely getting his arse kissed at the very moment Jaime stuck his tongue in Cersei’s cunt.

The thought made him smile. Cersei’s bucking made him groan. Not long after that, their fucking bid him to spill his seed inside her.

Just as he had done countless times before.

“First time in Darry though,” he spoke breathlessly as he kissed at Cersei’s lips. His sweet sister responded by pushing him off of her.

“What are you going on about?” she scowled, fumbling for a rag to wipe at her herself. “Gods, we’re lucky you didn’t bring the whole castle down on us. I was brought up to hold my tongue, why can’t you?”

“Hear me roar,” he smiled, earning a slap across the face. “You weren’t complaining about my tongue earlier.”

The second one he caught before stealing another kiss from those perfect lips. If there was anything in this world he loved more than fighting, it was her lips.

“Enough.” Cersei broke off, forcing him to help lace her gown once more. “Hurry now, if Aegon returns to our chambers and finds me missing, the seven hells will break loose.”

“Nonsense, that worm doesn’t fart without your say so,” he said as he readied himself, making note of where his cloak lay on the floor.

“If that was true we wouldn’t be at Darry. Aegon’s not the fool you think he is. He heeds good counsel when I offer it the right way, but he makes his own mind on other matters.”

Cersei’s need to defend Egg was an old game. She lorded over the prince, the entire realm knew it, and it had been that way since she wed the mouthy little whelp. Perhaps it was Egg’s idea to visit Darry in person and discuss the river lord’s debt to the crown, but it was Cersei who had convinced him to be merciful and accept a personal loan to see them through… a loan from Lord Tywin in truth.

_Father and his pet dragon worm their way into another loyal family._

_A new friend to help push their agenda through at court._

Jaime had no time for such plots. Rhaegar’s reforms might stick in the craw of some lords, but rights to yearly petitions by the smallfolk and mediation by the Faith didn’t offend him in the least. Arthur Dayne had ended the threat of the Kingswood Brotherhood by hearing the commoner’s woes and addressing their grievances. It wasn’t like Rhaegar was asking his lords to call themselves equal to their smallfolk or to hold hands with them and sing.

Cersei offered even less to him when they left the tiny room. Once in the corridor, he was made to walk five steps behind her, following his twin like a white-cloaked shadow through the Ploughman’s Keep. A jest came to mind about him tilling Cersei’s fields and he thought it a worthy jest even by Tyrion’s standards. He missed his brother most on trips like this. He had few to share his time with beyond Cersei and Egg was a bother at the best of times. Whenever he dared go near the children Cersei gave him an evil look.

_Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, I gave her all three but she would not share them._

_No skin off my back. I was born to fight not to raise whelps._

Cersei thought differently when they came to her guest chambers.

“Back to the hall,” she instructed. “I left early to sate your lust, now you must go and hear what I cannot.”

“What could you be missing? Egg singing your praises?”

“Something is brewing at court,” Cersei narrowed her green eyes on him. “Things Lord Darry might be privy to. He’s always been a friend to Rhaegar. Aegon thinks Shaena and the Red Viper are up to something. Within a few moons the Stark and Baratheon heirs will come riding down the Kingsroad and Rhaegar has attached far too much importance on that for it to be a simple rapprochement.”

“He wants to put on a show for Robert and Ned Stark,” he shrugged. “Makes sense considering all the trouble his vassals have been giving him lately.”

“Don’t be so sure. Rhaegar has grand plans he shares with few; arrangements that his shrew of a wife has a hand in, no doubt. Shaena’s children act too freely, them and that girl, _Daenerys_.”

It was strange to hear that name spoken with such little pleasure. Daenerys was a pretty thing, sure to be beauty one day and already men were falling over themselves in an attempt to pluck that peach. Even those among her kin.

“I thought the worm was set on wedding Daenerys to Joffrey,” he whispered, looking up and down the empty hall.

“He’s given up on that for some reason,” she caught his disbelief and scowled. “I told you, Aegon has his own mind. All he speaks on is visiting Highgarden and matching Myrcella to Aegon the Heir. To make her a queen, he would have them wed tomorrow if he could. Myrcella’s nowhere near ready though. She’s too innocent. Too-”

“Kind? She’s a sweet thing, Cersei. Father would be proud to see her made Queen, as much as he would have been seeing you crowned-”

“Yet here I am, only a princess,” Cersei snapped, grabbing hold onto the door. “Heed my words and theirs. Blame your delay on something. Any excuse will do.”

“I take it being waist deep in a princess is not what you’re looking for?”

He did not linger long after the door slammed in his face. Most of the revelers in the hall were still well at it. While a meagre hall in truth, Egg and Raymun Darry presided over the feast like it was held in the Hall of Heroes at Casterly Rock.

Jaime was approaching the high table when the prince rose to lead the hall in another toast. Middling of height and with a bit of a paunch to his gut, there was no confusing Egg with a warrior. He inspired others with gilded words as shiny as his silver-gold hair, which he kept neatly cut about the neck. Far plainer of face than Rhaegar or Viserys, much of the man’s presence came from his amethyst eyes, which glinted far brighter than the rest of his kin. Tyrion always said it was the man’s wits shining through. As usual, Egg was garbed in the most expensive of silks with heavy golden jewelry decorating his person.

_All to make up for his lack of crown, no doubt._

“To Lyman Darry!” Egg pointed his cup to the young Darry heir. “Whose name day my family and I were happy to attend! May he grow to be as good and loyal as his father.”

“To Prince Aegon!” Raymun returned the favor, gesturing to the other children at the table. “And his lovely family. Three handsomer dragons I cannot imagine.”

This wasn’t an idle boast. Cersei’s children were a trio of golden-haired treasures. Myrcella was a vision of her mother and looked like the Maiden reborn when she helped little Tommen raise his cup for the toast, while Joffrey nodded lazily. The brat only took up his cup after Egg shot Joffrey a warning look while keeping a smile stretched across his face.

One that faltered the moment Egg spotted Jaime.

_Oh here we go. While the lioness is away, the worm shall play._

“Our esteemed protector has returned,” said Egg in a mocking tone. “Did you get lost between here and my wife’s chambers?”

“Forgive my delay,” he apologized with a bow. “I was seeing to my rounds-”

“More like you stopped to sample some of Lord Darry’s fine vintages,” the prince shared a wary look with their host. “My wife’s brother has never been the most dutiful Kingsguard.”

“There’s no need in any case,” Raymun replied. “You’ll find nothing but welcome and safety in Darry lands.”

“Can the same be said of your fellow river lords?” Jaime asked. “The lords Bracken and Vypren swore fealty too before they defied the crown.”

Egg grew flustered. “Those misdeeds were forgiven. By His Grace, my brother.”

“Yes, but it took some bloodshed to convince the lords to bend the knee again. I recall seeing many banners joining the crown’s might. The Blackwood ravens, the Mallister eagle, but no sign of the Darry plowman.”

“I was indisposed!” Raymun reacted as if he’d been struck. “Abed with fever! The king knows I implored Lord Jonos to see reason.”

“Reason? It was the sight of the Dragonseye cutting his nephew down that ended Bracken’s revolt,” Jaime tapped his blade. “If it’s a choice between trusting pledges or my sword, I know which I would prefer.”

Egg glowered at him for that, “Yes, you are infamous for preferring the sword over all things. Like vows. Away to the shadows, ser, you are ruining young Lyman’s feast.”

_If you think this is ruined, try sticking your face between Cersei’s legs later._

After that, he sought the corner of the hall, reflecting on just how much he despised Cersei’s husband. To him, his special hatred for Egg would always set the worm apart from the rest of the royal family.

Rhaegar was a man Jaime respected, who he might have fought for in the rebellion if given the chance. Daeron was the truest friend Jaime had ever had, who stood by him despite all his failings. Jaeherys was a good enough sort, though that wife of his was unbearable and she had only grown worse since getting with child. Lynesse at her worst couldn’t hold a candle to Viserys though, the prideful little shit. Then there was Shaena. The queen. A woman who despised him, not that he could fault her reasons.

He found fault with nearly everything about Egg. Which made how well-liked the bastard was all the harder. Whatever pall Jaime had cast on Raymun’s mood was forgotten when Egg asked young Lyman to lead Myrcella in a dance.

While the hall watched the young dancers, Jaime kept his eyes and ears focused on Egg.

“I do thank you for your understanding,” Raymun filled Egg’s cup. “Without it, I’m ashamed to say that I gave thought to accepting a loan from Petyr Baelish.”

“Littlefinger is not a man I’d wish anyone indebted to. Not even the Hand can convince our king to grant Baelish license for further dealings in the capital. Thankfully, I use my influence only for the best of causes. What’s the good of being Master of Coin, if I can’t show some compassion to a loyal family?”

“I swear, in two harvests time our debt will be paid,” said Raymun. He then looked to Joffrey and Tommen. “If you ever need a place to foster your sons, look no further than Darry. I would welcome them with open arms.”

Interest flashed across Egg’s eyes at the proposal, the prince resting his cup on the table.

“I will remember that,” said Egg. “Tell me, will such welcome be extended to the young heirs Stark and Baratheon when they ride down the Kingsroad?”

“Not while I’m lord,” Darry’s face darkened. “Not unless the king orders it. Even then, I’d offer a Baratheon little more than bread and salt. My family fought for Rhaegar in the rebellion, but I remember well who slew my uncle Jonothor. Robert showed no mercy then, I’d not share my hearth with his progeny.”

“Understandable, of course,” Egg nodded carefully. “So it must bereave you to learn that Rhaegar intends to welcome the Baratheons back to court.”

“So the rumors are true,” Raymun sank in his chair, full of despair. “I heard talk of that. Though I had hoped the king was summoning Robert to force him kneel and pay homage. Far be it from me to question your brother-”

“Our king,” Egg corrected. “Rhaegar wears the crown and deserves our respect, whether or not we agree with all of his decisions. In my mind, loyalty brings just rewards to those who embrace it.”

Raymun quieted at the chiding, though brightened considerably when Egg offered a toast to Ser Jonothor.

“May Ser Jonothor’s family reap the rewards of his loyal service,” Egg looked at Jaime. “A Kingsguard who remembered his vows. A knight worthy of his cloak. A decent man.”

Despite the slight, he couldn’t argue with Egg on this one. Jonothor had been a good man.

A man who had picked a side. Just as Arthur Dayne had, along with Gerold Hightower and Oswell Whent. Even Jaime when the time came.

Yet only he still drew breath.

Not that he expected to live after killing Aerys. When Aerys gave the command to burn the city, there was no standing idle any longer. He had done nothing during the ravaging of Queen Rhaella, nothing when Daeron brushed by him to meet the Mad King’s wrath, but the worst had been the last stand of Shaena’s rescuers.

As Myrcella and Lyman danced about the hall, Jaime found himself back in the Red Keep, watching Ser Arthur Dayne and the others. Myrcella’s smile was only half as bright as Dawn had been, the milk-glass blade set alight by the torches of the castle guard. Jaime had frozen when Ser Oswell and the White Bull had drawn their swords. The laughter and lutes of the feast sounded distant now, while the thrum of crossbows and the clashing of swords roared in his ears.

The cries of men dying. Good men. Kingsguard.

The song ended and Egg applauded his daughter’s performance, lifting his cup like the Mad King had when he forced Jaime to stab Arthur’s head onto the spike.

Egg smiled as his father had… and Jaime could not say who he despised more in that moment.

His former king. His sister’s husband.

Or himself.

 

 **DAENERYS  
** _The Godswood_

She found him in the godswood, a peaceful acre of trees and shrubbery which overlooked the Blackwater Rush. There was no need to stick to the path for her brother always lost himself among the elms, alders and black cottonwoods.

Still, there was no hiding from her. As a little girl, Dany had learned which spots of the godswood her brother preferred. His humming helped as well, for it guided her right to where Jaehaerys was snipping away at a pair of large lilac bushes. Their fragrance as pleasant as the tune and she felt sad in that moment, thinking how long it had been since Jay sang to her.

Of all her brothers, Jaehaerys was the tallest. At nearly seven feet he was the gentlest sort of giant. His lanky form was clad in shades of black and purple, darker than his pale lavender eyes. Though Shaena always chided him for the way he kept his hair, Dany liked the way Jay pulled it back behind his head and bound it with a simple gold band.

She smiled to give that silver tail a sharp pull.

“Hey!” Jay grunted, dropping some of the lilacs he had gathered.

“Serves you right,” Dany scolded as she put her hands on her hips. “I name you a rude sort, Jaehaerys Targaryen. You come all the way from Dragonstone and visit the godswood before me? I should sick Ser Barristan on you. Actually, Daeron would be better. He’d punish you proper!”

“I rank low on Daeron’s list of men to trouble,” Jay offered a small smile before bending down to gather up the purple flowers. “Forgive me, little sister. I did not want to come before my dearest ladies without a gift. Lilacs for you, jasmine for Shaena, and lilies for my beloved.”

“Then I forgive you,” she ended the mummery and hugged her brother. “Jay, it was far too long this time. After Lynesse came, I thought for sure you’d be right behind.”

“My duties at Dragonstone keep me busy and Lynesse need not suffer for that. She’s happier here in the capital and it’s a better place to have the baby. Safer too.”

There was no begrudging Lynesse for thinking Dragonstone was ill-omened. Their mother had six children here at the Red Keep, only to die on Dragonstone trying to bring her into the world. Shaena blamed the storm and the stress of the rebellion for mother’s loss, but Dany still felt a strange guilt at the thought sometimes.

Though she suspected that was just an excuse for Lynesse. Long before the lady was with child, Lynesse often chose the capital and its charms over Dragonstone and her husband. Jay disdained life at court, though he would endure it at times for the sake of his wife.

“Well, Lynesse should at least travel with you,” she said, snatching the lilacs from Jaehaerys and breathing deeply. “It’s too sad to imagine you alone on Dragonstone.”

“My wife was looking out for our best interests. At least she was here to make excuses for my delay in answering Rhaegar’s summons…”

Jay made a face then which grabbed her interest.

“Rhaegar summoned you? I hadn’t heard-”

“Sorry, Dany. Those are matters of court I can’t discuss quite yet.”

Jay was truly poor at being secretive, but she decided to pry more at a better time. So she took her brother’s lean and muscular arm and dragged him onward into the godswood.

“You still need the jasmine and lilies. I’ll join the brave ser on his quest for flowers. No branch or shrub shall stand in our way.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Egg,” said Jay. “I heard he’s on the road with Cersei and their brood. Has he returned?”

“Not yet, but you know them. Cersei’s wheelhouse moves like a turtle and Egg will stop at every castle between Darry and here. He does enjoy his feasts.”

“Just as lords enjoy his attendance, he’s a boon to any celebration. Our brother has more charm than any two normal men. All that Lannister gold doesn’t hurt either.”

“I’d trade his jests for one of your songs,” she needled and Jay blushed, for he was the shyest knight she knew.

He promised that later she would get her a song, after they collected all the flowers. They talked of the goings on at court and all he’d missed. How she was progressing with her studies and her ever-growing list of admirers. Jay grew awkward at such talk, changing the subject to his favorite topic, Lynesse. Apparently he had purchased some new gifts for his wife from a Lyseni trader.

“Some rare wines and well-made tapestries,” he explained. “The trader said the wine is a vintage that the Valyrians once used for expectant mothers. Apparently, all the noblewomen in Lys drink it to ensure their full term.”

“How interesting,” she lied. “This trader, he came from the east? Did he tell you of anything going on across the Narrow Sea? About the Blackfyre?”

Jay became grim all of a sudden. “He did, nor was he the first to do so.”

“So Prince Oberyn was right! There’s a new Blackfyre Pretender…” Dany whispered, unable to hide the excitement in her voice.

“Don’t be so quick to believe in rumors. There _appears_ to be someone making grandiose claims of being a black dragon. We’re not certain of anything yet.”

“The Red Viper is sure.”

The whole capital had been alive with the gossip of late. At first, most of the rumors were about the coming of the Baratheons. Someone had been spreading nonsense about Robert Baratheon threatening a rebellion against Rhaegar, and the king threatening war against Storm’s End in turn. It was all nonsense though, since Lord Renly had departed the capital singing her brother’s praises.

The next craze concerned the Blackfyre and what whispers Oberyn Martell had heard of him. The lusty Dornish Prince looked less a spymaster than a warrior, yet everyone at court knew he had the Sand Snakes slithering here and there to learn all they could for the crown.

“Lady Nym heard of this Blackfyre from her friends in Volantis and Myr,” she explained to Jaehaerys. “Sarella sent word of traders talking of it in Oldtown and Obara said there were men in Braavos seeking sellswords to fight for a black dragon!”

All this intrigue set her heart to pounding, in both excitement and fear. Her imagination came alive with histories and tales of past rebellions crushed by brave Targaryen kings and princes. Victories paid for with the blood of heroes.

“Nothing from Tyene Sand?” Jay stroked her hair. “Whatever the Snakes have learned, it is not something you need worry on, Daenerys. It’s been near forty years since a Blackfyre has troubled the realm. What support that family once inspired in the Seven Kingdoms has long since dwindled.”

“But rebellions keep happening,” she noted. “No one would care if this wasn’t a danger. Why do you treat me as a child? I’m nearly a woman grown.”

“You shall always be a child to me. I should have known better than to sing so many songs about the Blackfyre Rebellions to you when you were little. This fool could be a pretender to the pretenders for all we know, a mummer’s dragon. A fight is far from likely.”

“I do hope you’re wrong,” another voice added and the pair turned to find Viserys leaning against a tree, eating a pomegranate. “It would give me the chance to finally end the Blackfyre line. A task worthy of a real dragon of House Targaryen.”

Red juice dripped down her brother’s chin and onto a doublet of a similar shade. Though Jaehaerys and Viserys were close in age, they were different in most ways. What Viserys lacked in stature against their brother he made up for in bearing, for while Jay had a welcoming softness to his face, Viserys’s was hard and gaunt.

There was also an air about him that made others wary. Herself included.

Jay was always making excuses for Viserys, but even he had to sigh at their brother’s entrance.

“Viserys, one should never hope for war,” said Jay. “It’s not what the songs make it out to be. There’s less glory and more misery, and it is the innocents who suffer. You were kept far back from it at Pyke-”

“Not by choice,” Viserys tossed away the fruit. “Else we both would have covered ourselves in glory. Let the black dragon come and try our might, for he is one and the red dragons are many.”

“He would not come alone,” she reminded them. “The Golden Company has always helped the pretenders in the past and they’re the best sellswords in all of-”

“When did you become so bold?” Viserys laughed, striding forward and grasping her chin. “A proper husband will cure you of that. Though as feeble as you are, I wager your mettle is stronger than a sellsword.”

Jay gently, but firmly, removed the unwelcome hand from her face.

“Do behave, Viserys. If Daeron saw you handle Daenerys in such a way… well, I do not relish getting between you two again.”

“Funny,” Viserys sucked some juice from his fingers. “I relish seeing Daeron turn his ire against a dragon that deserves it. I imagine you’ll find him more disagreeable than your last visit. His demeanor now matches his looks.”

Dany grew wroth at that. “Don’t say such things! While you drink and enjoy Rhaegar’s fare, Daeron slew Hendry Bracken and forced Lord Jonos to bend the knee!”

“Bend the knee,” Viserys scoffed before patting Jay’s face and smiling. “Our father knew the proper way to deal with traitors. The dragon’s way. With fire-”

Jay’s arm moved so swiftly it was a blur and suddenly Viserys’s hand was thrown back. The lilies Jay held flew through the air as Viserys stumbled some.

“Stop,” Jay croaked, his eyes downcast and hand trembling before him. “Not the fire, not again. Brother, I beg you. Please not the fire.”

Viserys and Dany could only gape at Jay, whose outburst was quite startling. She took his trembling hand, pressing her own bouquet of lilacs into his grasp. Whatever turmoil Jay endured was helped somewhat by her touch and the sight of the flowers.

_I remember your nightmares, my gentle brother. The ones you’d wake the whole castle with._

“All is well,” she whispered to him. “Father’s fires were put out long ago. We must gather up Lynesse’s lilies. Viserys will help. Won’t you, Viserys?”

Viserys was rubbing his wrist when she looked his way, yet he nodded begrudgingly. Jay said nothing, but stooped down to join them in gathering up the flowers. When Viserys handed Jay those he collected, she saw the brothers grasp each other’s hands. In that moment, she saw a better side of Viserys. Not the callous man who ran his mouth, but a prince she could happily call brother.

“It has been too long,” Viserys broke away from Jay, waving off something unsaid between them. “Too long since the dragons have been together. However it happens, when I win the glory I’m destined to, I want you to sing my praises. Soft at heart, strong in voice, that’s my brother.”

She wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not, yet Jay took it as one.

“You’ll get your song when you stop needling everyone.”

“People should feel off put in the presence of a dragon,” Viserys grinned. “Which reminds me, I’m glad you came when you did. We might have missed each other otherwise. There’s need for an envoy to Tyrosh and I aim to be it.”

Jay shared a knowing look with her, “Have you spoken with Rhaegar about this?”

“In time, in time. I’m the obvious choice. Besides, I’ve no interest in sharing court with the Baratheons…”

With that the three departed the godswood together, off to deliver the other bouquets. Viserys boasted to Jay about himself, of the women he’d bedded and decrees he’d convinced Rhaegar to accept. Here and there, she corrected the record as best she could.

As they walked, her mind kept creeping back to the Blackfyres and another rumor, one about Dany’s own future. She had heard from Jon Connington’s niece that spouses had been decided for several of the younger Targaryens, Dany among them. Rhaegar and Shaena had refused to speak of it.

“Words are wind, Daenerys.” Rhaegar had told her. “It is actions that matter most.”

That’s what worried her. About the Blackfyre. Her future husband.

What actions were being taken without her knowledge?

 

 **THEON  
** _Maegor’s Holdfast_

The maid’s cheeks started to burn when she caught sight of his grin. If Theon remembered correctly, that reddening would spread down and across the girl’s chest as well.

Kally was her name. He had bedded her a month past, beneath an elm in the gardens. It was rare to get a wench completely naked in the open and as he watched Kally’s shapely ass disappear down the corridor, his hand tingled at the memory of cupping the bare flesh there.

_A skin of wine, some kind words and a smile, that was all it took to get Kally to spread her legs._

_A far easier task than winning the hand of a princess._

To that end, Theon now stood waiting outside the king’s solar. He had no company save the two Targaryen guardsmen keeping watch over the iron-studded oak door. His ran down his black velvet doublet, smoothing it once again as he stared down at the golden kraken embroidered across its chest. The garment was the finest bit of clothing he owned.

More than a few highborn ladies took him for a lord when he dressed so well. That’s how he wanted the king to see him. Not as a ward, but as the future Lord Reaper of Pyke.

“A lord of power and import,” Rhaegar had once said to him. “It’s in you to become such, Theon. One day you could lift the Iron Islands and its people from the depths of misrule. You can end the legacy of reaving, so your isles may prosper and thrive as the rest of my realm does.”

Though he often dreamed of going home to Pyke, Theon also envisioned returning to the capital as the type of lord that Rhaegar described. Taking his place as Grand Admiral of the Royal Fleet, sailing far and wide, winning glory and titles. A dream Aegon the Heir shared. Even as boys the pair made grand plans for their futures. They would brave the Smoking Sea, conquer new lands for the realm, travel to places no Targaryen or Greyjoy had ever dared to.

Over the years, meeting exotic women would take on a growing importance for the two friends. Today though, he was only interested in one woman.

 _A girl truly,_ he thought, _Daenerys has bled but she’s still a tad too young for bedding._

_There’s enough women at court to keep me happy until that fruit ripens._

His musings were soon interrupted when the doors to the solar jerked open violently. Viserys appeared then, his thin face twisted in anger. The prince seemed intent on storming out of the solar, but Ser Barristan Selmy barred his way.

“Out of my way, Ser Grandfather.” Viserys growled.

“My prince, the king has not given you his leave,” answered the Kingsguard knight.

“Of course not! He gives me nothing!”

“Viserys.” Rhaegar’s deep tones rang out and he soon appeared in the doorway, crown upon his head. When the king reached for him, the prince tried to flinch from his touch. With Rhaegar being a trained knight and Viserys a worthless weakling, Theon wasn’t surprised to see the younger Targaryen enfolded in the king’s grasp.

“Hold a moment,” said Rhaegar. “Brother, there is no need for anger. I see your worth. The Iron Throne may be made of the swords of defeated foes but my reign will forever depend on our family. Trust me, Viserys. Your time will come.”

“Now, Rhaegar. It should be now. There’s no good reason to send Monford Velaryon to Tyrosh and not me! Who better to act an envoy than a prince of the blood?”

“I have made my decision,” the king shook his head. “Here and now, House Targaryen must stand together. So be patient.”

Viserys scowled and pulled away, and Rhaegar allowed him to go. Theon couldn’t keep the smirk off his face when Viserys passed, earning him a vile look from the prince.

“Lower your gaze you lowly squid,” snapped Viserys.

“As you wish,” he replied bowing low before dropping his voice to a whisper. “All hail the Beggar Prince.”

His words set Viserys to cursing all the way down the corridor. That sound was as pleasing as the sight of the king waving him inside the solar. Within was a spacious, lavishly furnished room. Tapestries depicting dragons adorned the walls, a Myrish carpet was spread out upon the floor, and ringing the room were weighty tomes and small marble sculptures of past kings.

Truly there was enough treasure to sate a longship full or reavers for a lifetime. The only thing they’d scorn taking would be the hunched septon sitting in the corner.

Septon Meribald was an oddity at court. Nearly six feet tall with a lined, windburnt face, thick grey hair and shabby robes, the old man seemed better suited to begging than advising the king.

“Young Greyjoy,” said the septon. “What a handsome sight you make. Is today a special occasion?”

“I have an audience with the king,” he said, keeping his gaze on Rhaegar. “A private one, I’d hoped.”

“The ser and the septon have my confidence,” the king removed his crown himself, laying the simple thing upon a writing desk. “Nor would I deprive the Meribald of a comfortable seat before his coming trials.”

“Trials,” Meribald chuckled. “His Grace does embellish. My travels around the Riverlands are a penance I gladly pay to the Seven. The highborn here have a city full of septons to tend them, but many smallfolk that I meet have none but me. A year of wandering about and ministering to their needs and I shall return to you a better man than I am now.”

Theon could not see how Meribald could grow worse, though he kept his mouth shut. He would not let two old men intimidate him from asking what he would of the king. Rhaegar’s indigo eyes fixed on him, as sad and mysterious as the day he had taken Theon into his care.

“Speak freely, Theon. This is the first time you’ve ever asked for such a formal audience.”

“The occasion calls for it,” he said, brushing his hair back and standing as tall as he could. “For I ask you not to see me as your ward. Look upon me and see Theon Greyjoy, Lord Balon’s only son and heir to Pyke. The man who will one day rule the Iron Islands.”

His heart was beating like a drum. “And who stands before his king, asking for Princess Daenerys’s hand in marriage.”

After preparing for this day for nigh on a year, he expected surprise from the king, perhaps even shock. Yet Rhaegar did not so much as blink. The king stayed as silent as the statues around them, the only sounds to be heard were Meribald’s heavy breathing and the clinking of Barristan’s armor as he shifted uncomfortably.

“Not right away, of course,” he pressed on. “Some years should pass before we marry. To allow Dany to blossom fully and for me to return to Pyke to ready my home for the coming of a princess.”

His chin raised high then. “With her as a bride, I could make my home isles great again. Our children would be the dragons of the sea and the Iron Throne and Iron Islands united at last.”

Once he spoke the words, a wave of relief washed over him. Once it had been Visenya who he wanted, the king’s daughter being closer in age and an object of his desire for years. To his disappointment, Queen Shaena and the Dragonseye had clearly tainted the princess against him, for she barely gave Theon more than a passing word or glance.

Daenerys was different. Kind, timid in the rights ways, and an undeniable beauty, she would make a fine wife. He might never have need of a salt wife with her waiting in his bed.

Now it was Rhaegar making him wait. The king’s silence growing more concerning the longer it went on.

Only for it to end with a sigh.

“We are honored,” said the king. “Truly, Theon. To witness the boy I took in come before me as a man and propose in such a noble manner… you are becoming the lord I hoped you to be.”

“Then let me have Daenerys and I will rise even higher. My people will forget rebellion and look to the future should they see me return with a dragon on my arm.”

“No,” Rhaegar said simply. “I am sorry, Theon. Daenerys and you will not be wed.”

It felt like he’d been struck. The denial was so blunt, he was left gaping like a fool when Rhaegar crossed the space between them. The king’s firm grasp of his shoulder did not ease his shock. Instead, it felt like he was bracing Theon for what was to come.

“Your Majesty, hear me out-”

“There’s no need,” said Rhaegar. “Arrangements regarding my sister are a matter of great importance and I can say little more on the subject for now. Fear not, though. I have been thinking long and hard on a future wife for you. Several inquiries have already been made.”

“Within the royal family?” he asked, trying to find a bright spot in all this. Visenya would be a more than welcome substitution. Princess Myrcella might do in a pinch, though that would mean a longer wait and having to deal with Egg and Cersei more than he wished.

With a shake of his head, Rhaegar crushed his hopes once more.

“There are others I have in mind for you,” continued Rhaegar. “We will find you a landward wife from fine noble stock, to symbolize the new era you will usher into the Iron Islands. Lord Tarly has kept quite an open mind regarding you and his daughter Talla.”

_Talla the Weeper._

That’s all Theon could think of later in the archery yard.

He had gone before the king to ask for a Targaryen bride only to be offered a Targaryen conquest. The yard was empty save for him, yet it felt like yesterday that Rhaegar's heir had stood there alongside him, boasting of taking Talla Tarly’s maidenhead.

“During, nothing but moans,” Aegon had told him as they practiced. “Once I finished though, oh did she weep. She said we made poetry with our bodies!”

Their laughter had echoed along the walls, yet all Theon heard now was the hum of his bowstring as he loosed another arrow. The arrow took the target through the neck. In his mind, it was the king who suffered the blow.

_I walked into that like a fool. To think Rhaegar would do right by me if I asked nicely._

_Father would be ashamed of me._

He notched again. Took aim. Then loosed. This time it was the Dragonseye he pictured. The scarred prince was the first Targaryen he had ever laid eyes upon. When the barred doors of the Greyjoy hall had given in, Daeron was the one to step through. Clinging to his mother, Theon had watched the bloodied knight cut down his protectors. Only later would he learn some of the blood on Daeron likely belonged to his brother Maron.

This arrow struck right where the heart would be. After that it become a slaughter. He hit Egg in his flabby belly, a slow and painful death. Then Jay through the thigh, so the giant would fall all the harder. Viserys right in his whining mouth. Shaena took an arrow to each eye, so she’d never again look down her nose at him.

Angry as he was, Theon couldn’t picture aiming at Aegon. Nor Daenerys, nor even Visenya.

Another target soon presented itself though. After his last arrow, a lazy clapping filled the yard and Joffrey appeared from the shadows. The prince was younger, yet nearly as tall as Theon, though he felt Joffrey’s golden curls and pouty lips make him look half a woman. Being the king’s nephew made the youth bold though, for the prince came forth with a skin of wine in his hands and a self-assured sneer on his spoiled face.

“When did you get back?” he asked, notching again and loosing in anger.

“Only a short while ago. Everyone else is resting.” Joffrey’s bright green eyes twinkled as he drank of his wine. “I had enough of sitting around and doing nothing. This is one of my father’s finest vintages.”

“You mean it’s one of the king’s,” he shot back. “Or your grandfather’s. Prince Eggy owns little that others haven’t give him.”

“My father is a powerful man. Ten times as wealthy as most other lords. I imagine our wheelhouse makes a finer sight that your backwards keep on the Iron Islands.”

He pulled another arrow, “All that wealth makes you soft. Where I come from, we pay the iron price for all we have.”

“You use iron coins?” Joffrey flicked back his golden curls as Theon loosed again.

“No. We use our ships and blades to take what we want. Any who don’t submit suffer for it.”

Joffrey stared long and hard at him then, his expression betraying some approval at what he’d described. A moment later and the prince held out his wine as if to share. A touch of nostalgia followed, for Aegon and he often drank together. Joffrey was no Aegon but he didn’t see any reason to scorn a drink. As he gulped down a healthy mouthful of the biting red, Joffrey eyed his bow curiously.

“Why don’t you use a crossbow? Mine could drop a knight at twenty paces.”

“Because with aim as good as mine, I could do the same at fifty paces. All I need do is find the weak spot and I come out the victor.”

“Commoners use bows,” Joffrey’s sneer returned. “Are you excited for the Baratheons coming to court? You won’t lack for traitorous company then.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet Robert Baratheon. I bet he’s mostly bluster though. For all the talk of him being a great rebel, he turned down joining my father’s rebellion.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Joffrey laughed aloud. “Tommen and Myrcella are. Not me.”

“Well aren’t you brave,” he mocked, checking his quiver. When he found it empty, he went forth to collect his arrows as Joffrey watched and drank.

“The king should never have stomached the Baratheons for so long,” the golden princeling went on. “My father says he did so because of the rebel alliances, but I think that’s cowardice. Any who disobey should meet the sword. It makes no matter whom. Stags, wolves, krakens-”

“How about lions?” Theon asked as he took his spot again, quiver full and fingers twitching again. “My family thought they could fight the realm. I believed my father when he said we’d find more glory than ever. Look where I am now.”

“Your family isn’t mine,” Joffrey said imperiously. “My uncle the Dragonseye has the right idea. Cut down any who think to rebel. Look what my grandfather did at Castamere. None would dare challenge him. All fear Lord Tywin because of what he did to the Reynes and Tarbecks. He didn’t talk, he didn’t take prisoners.”

The prince smiled boldly then. “Mercy is for the weak.”

Arrow in his hand, bow at the ready, he was sorely tempted to loose at yet another Targaryen target. Save this time it would be one of the living, breathing variety. It would be worth it to wipe the smug look off Joffrey’s face.

Yet he stopped himself. Something Rhaegar said to Viserys coming back to him.

 _Your time will come,_ he thought, _be patient._

“I think you’re half right, little prince,” he said, notching again and looking at his target. “Mercy may be for the weak, yet even the threat of death will not stop those strong enough to face it.”

_For what is dead may never die._

_But rises up again, harder and stronger._

And he loosed again.

**DAVOS  
** _The Kingsroad_

The lengthy wait along the roadside led to much idle chatter and a few jests.

“Barristan the Bold, Barristan the Bored more like it.”

Prince Aegon’s quip about the storied Kingsguard inspired laughter from the rest of the mounted party. They were all a finer sort than Davos had any right to be among. Not that any other man here sat their horses any differently. Likely the prince’s arse felt as sore as his own after so many hours waiting.

They were the welcoming party for young Lord Jon, who was expected to appear on the Kingsroad soon. The king had sent his brother, Prince Aegon, and Barristan the Bold to lead their number. The prince’s surcoat bore a red three-headed dragon, breathing flames of golden embroidery. Ser Barristan, despite his age, appeared strong and able in his white-cloak and armor.

“Do not worry on me your grace,” Ser Barristan bowed to the prince. “A Kingsguard’s life is less tourneys and adventure and more standing still and keeping watch. It might not be worthy of song, yet I do it gladly.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” the king’s brother turned in his saddle to gesture to a golden squire. “Lancel, remind me to seek out a bard who can compose a song about noble knights standing vigil. A lively tune that sets maidens to dancing and the Bold to tapping along with his foot.”

Ser Barristan shared a laugh with the prince, drawing more attention from the common folk traveling the road. Passersby gawked at both men, few sparing a glance Davos’s way.

 _No reason to,_ he thought. _What’s an onion knight to a Targaryen prince and a knight of Kingsguard?_

The Baratheon banner flew proudly in his son Devan’s care, yet not a single Baratheon was a part of this party. The closest they had was Edric Storm, Lord Robert’s bastard. Only one and ten, the lad was courteous and good-natured. His prominent ears were a gift from his Florent mother, but in every other way he was the very image of his father.

Especially when he smiled.

“He’s jesting isn’t he?” Edric whispered to Davos. “The white-cloaks are sure to have adventures. That’s what knights do of course.”

“Don’t be telling my wife that,” he replied with a wink. “My Marya wants me to be the lazy, lay about kind of knight.”

Edric wrinkled his nose at that, “That’s terrible. Uncle Stannis made you a knight because you did a brave thing. When Jon becomes Lord of Storm’s End, I can be his knight! We’ll go on quests together, just like he promised. Do you think he remembers?”

“He surely does,” Davos clutched at his bag of finger bones then.

_May the lad’s dreams come true without great cost. Lord Jon would have no more loyal a servant._

Edric had begged and pleaded with Robert to be a part of the welcoming party and the lord had been half in his cups when he agreed, before deciding Davos would go as well.

“These two would do better than the both of you.” Robert had told Stannis and Renly. “The boy likes little enough in this world save his bastard kin and the Onion Knight. Let them deliver Jon here with a smile on his face.”

While overstating things a bit, Lord Robert was right in calling Jon a solemn sort.

Though few dared speak of it at Storm’s End, the memory of the late Lady Lyanna hung over the boy like the darkest of storms. The heir lacked Robert’s liveliness and cheer, something that understandably frustrated his father. What few smiles or laughter Jon offered were not enough, so eight years past the lord thought to remedy the boy of his somber nature. By Robert’s command, Davos was sent on a quest to track down a few of the lord’s bastards, so Jon could have playmates who were kin to him.

The search took Davos to King’s Landing and the Vale, where he found Gendry Waters working at a smithy under Tobho Mott and Mya Stone playing in the stables of the Gates of the Moon. The third child he gathered was also the youngest. Edric Storm had been raised at the keep of a landed knight not far from Storm’s End, though it might as well have been a world away to a bastard.

The world was hard on their like, so much so that each of the three seemed doubtful that his offer was true.

But when Lord Robert’s children met for the first time, matters of station and parentage were quickly forgotten. Robert’s plan proved fruitful and Jon took to his half-siblings with zeal. To the heir, Mya was his older sister, Gendry and Edric his brothers, true to his heart if not trueborn. Though such treatment earned Jon some rebukes from Lady Selyse and others, he bore it with ease. Davos was proud of his role in that, especially when the children welcomed Shireen into their games.

Sadly, no matter how happy the other children made Jon, the melancholy often returned in the presence of his father.

Davos thought that Lord Robert could be too hard on the boy, though he never dared say such. In the training yard, the lord would jest of how weak Jon was compared to himself at the same age. During his son’s tenth nameday feast, Jon sputtered while gulping wine that Robert made him drink and the lord complained of wanting a son, not a daughter. The day had gotten worse from there when Robert decided to lead his noble guests on a hunt after the festivities. Despite doing his best to keep up with his father, Jon took an ugly fall from his horse. Davos still remembered how the boy looked up to his father with glistening eyes to seek solace, only to find disappointment on the lord's face. 

“Gods, boy,” Robert had scowled. “If you’re going to have the look of your mother, at least ride like her. ”

Still young, and smarting from the fall off his horse, the lordling had grabbed a rock and hurled it at his father. Lord Robert's fury was only tempered by the embarrassment he suffered to have his heir behave so poorly in front of his vassals. The lord declared the fall to have muddled Jon's senses before commanding Davos to return the boy back to the castle. Though close-mouthed during the ride, once Jon was delivered to Maester Cressen's care Jon offered them a glimpse of his turmoil.

“I wish I was dead,” whispered Jon, his grey eyes far too mournful for his age. “If I died instead of mother, she would be here and father would be happy.”

"Your lord father loves you dearly." Maester Cressen had explained but Jon would not hear of it.

"I just want him to leave me alone."

It had been an ugly affair. One that Davos never spoke of, save to Stannis. Not long after Robert sent his son north to Lord Stark, where Jon had fostered at Winterfell ever since.

 _Five years under the care of another lord,_ Davos reflected. _If the gods are good, Jon will have missed his father as much as Robert missed him._

_Maybe now there will be peace between them._

That hope lingered when Edric gave a shout of joy.

“There he is!” Edric shouted, bouncing in his saddle. “It’s Jon! He’s here!”

“Is he quite sure?” Prince Aegon squinted at what looked like a party of riders. “To me that could be the Seven themselves…”

“The boy has sharp eyes,” Ser Barristan nodded at Edric, causing the boy to brighten even more. “I see a direwolf banner and perhaps ten riders. Lord Stark’s escort no doubt. They’ve got some ponies in the front- by the Seven!”

Soon enough Davos saw the reason for the knight’s shock. At first, he thought there were two ponies at the fore of the Stark riders, but his insides clenched in terror to realize that they were actually two massive wolves. One had smoke grey fur and yellow eyes. The other was white as snow with eyes that were blood red.

People and horses screamed and darted out of the road as the beasts drew closer.

“Fear not!” A voice shouted from among the Stark riders. “They’re friendly to all who are friends to us!”

The speaker was a red-haired youth just shy of manhood. He had a stocky build and a handsome face that bore a reassuring smile. Dressed in leathers and heavy wools, Davos marked the lad as a northman, his companion even more so. If Edric had the look of Lord Robert, Jon was the image of his lady mother.

His hair was straight and dark, his face long and serious. Davos had met Lyanna Stark during the Siege of Storm’s End, and it was her grey eyes that Jon used now. He had grown taller and leaner during his years away and now wore a sword on his belt. Everything from the lad’s cloak to his boots were the color of night.

Yet when Jon’s eyes fell on him and Edric, his smile was as bright as dawn.

“I am Jory Cassel, Captain of Winterfell’s guard,” a long-haired man rode to the front of their party, bowing in his saddle. “In my charge are Robb Stark and Jon Baratheon. We are bound for the capital to have an audience with King Rhaegar.”

“So you are,” Prince Aegon touched a hand to his chest. “I am Aegon Targaryen, brother to the king you seek. His grace bid me to welcome the heirs of Winterfell and Storm’s End to the capital. We are to provide you all safe conduct through our city, though now that I’ve seen your pets… I fear for the city’s safety instead.”

“Well met, your grace,” Robb Stark bowed before gesturing to the wolves. “Our direwolves look more fearsome than they act. Grey Wind and Ghost will be at their best behavior.”

“Now where is the fun in that?” the prince grinned. “I’ve never spied a direwolf before. I insist on repaying such a thrill. We three must partake in a bottle of Arbor Gold, so we might become fast friends and merrier for it.”

Davos found the prince’s charm to be sweeter than honey and just as thick. It made Davos feel thrice the peasant when he went forth to do his duty, Edric following along.

“Lord Jon,” he bowed towards the dark youth. “Your father sends his regards. He awaits you in the Red Keep-”

“Ser Davos,” Jon spoke with a smile. “It is good to see you again.”

His attention turned to his half-bother then, “Better to find you in such good company, though my eyes scarcely believe it. This can’t be Edric! He’s too big, too tall. Who are you, what have you done with my brother?”

“It’s me, Jon!” Edric laughed. “And you’ve gotten taller too! Who gave you that sword? When did you get a direwolf? Can I pet him?”

“Breathe, lad,” he laughed. “He’s had a long journey. Let our lord partake in the king’s hospitality, as Prince Aegon kindly offered.”

None argued with that and soon the prince was leading them through the city. While Prince Aegon tried to keep the attention of both heirs, Jon stuck close to Edric.

After answering many of the boy’s questions it was Jon’s turn to ask his own.

“Ser, I had little word of you at Winterfell, save what letters Shireen sent. How is your family?”

“They are well, my lord. More than well actually, my Devan now squires for your lord uncle. Stannis was kind to take him, Devan’s back at the Red Keep tending the rest of your family as we speak. He’s eager to see you again.”

“And I him,” Jon said before whistling at his direwolf, drawing the white beast away from a poor peddler who had fallen over in fright. “Are Gendry and Mya there too?”

“No my lord. They send their regards and await your return to Storm’s End.”

Gendry and Mya had wanted to come but their father had forbidden it. Robert might care little for King Rhaegar, but even he would not push the bounds of propriety by bringing his bastard children to court. Only Edric’s presence could be excused since the lad had noble blood on. When he explained this to Jon, his mood darkened.

“He left them behind then? They are his children.”

“And Lord Robert has cared for them. Mya chooses his new steeds at market. She’s got a better eye for horseflesh than the stable master. Gendry has free reign of the castle forge and your lord father even wears some of his armor. They don’t begrudge having to wait a bit longer to see you.”

“They shouldn’t have to,” the lordling looked to Edric, who Ser Barristan now entertained. “We all had different mothers, but different roads can lead to the same castle. They’re more Baratheon than most. Even me.”

“Your father doesn’t think so. He’s missed his trueborn son and heir more than anything in this world.”

“Not anything, not anyone.”

Davos didn’t push, it wasn’t his place. He did grab at his bag of finger bones when they passed through the gates of the Red Keep. His hand went to it again when Prince Aegon led them to the throne room, which was filled with the lords and ladies of court. Robb and Jon walked ahead with their direwolves, he and Edric following close by as they neared the towering Iron Throne.

None sat the throne at the moment, for King Rhaegar stood speaking to Jon Arryn and Lord Robert. The Hand, an elderly man with stooped shoulders, offered a sharp contrast to the younger men. The king looked regal in his crown and silks, while Robert made a fearsome impression. The Lord of Storm’s End was large and brawny, with only the odd grey among his coal black hair.

Whatever the three spoke on was interrupted when a trumpet sounded and a herald announced their coming.

“ _Aegon Targaryen, prince of the blood, Lord of Dunstonbury and Whitegrove, brings to court Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell, and Jon Baratheon, heir to Storm’s End!”_

All the eyes turned, the sight of the direwolves drawing gasps and a cry from Lollys Stokeworth. The king was startled as well, his face growing slack and eyes widening, though not in fear if Davos had to guess.

“Here comes my son!” Robert bellowed, throwing his arms wide and beginning to laugh so loudly that the direwolves paused. The lord showed no hesitation, striding forward and taking a firm hold of Jon’s arms.

“My boy! Look at how he’s grown! The North put some muscle on you! Trying to become taller than me, eh? Ready to give me a proper go in the yard?”

“Hello, father,” Jon struggled to keep his footing under his father’s onslaught. “It’s good to see you well-”

“Well he says! Did you think I’d be grey and haggard? There’s a battle or two left in me yet boy! No, no, not a boy. You’re a man now. We’ll drink to that! To that and more!”

Robert’s laughter grew louder still when Robb Stark stepped forward,“Thank the gods you have the look of your mother! A handsome woman, Catelyn Tully. Damn me if you don’t carry yourself like Ned though. Tell me you know how to smile?”

“Yes, my lord. I do so every time I beat Jon in the yard,” the lordling grinned and Jon scowled some at that.

“He’s been smiling the whole way here...”

“That’s because no one did the south justice!” The Stark boy nudged Jon playfully. “I’ve never seen so many shades of green.”

Robert slapped his hands down on their shoulders, “Lad, that’s nothing. A visit to the Reach will set you straight. That’ll come after we get you settled at Storm’s End. We’re going to see things you could only dream about at Winterfell. I’ll be as good a guardian to you as Jon Arryn was to Ned and I.”

“More a gift than a duty,” Lord Arryn stepped forward, his face full of warmth. “Those days were among my happiest at the Eyrie. Your fathers grew into fine men before my eyes. I envy Robert the years ahead of him.”

“I finally get the chance to pay back that debt Jon. Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark, all under one roof again. We’ll set your little falcon right.”

Davos wished to hear more but caught Stannis beckoning to him from the side of the hall. He doubted anyone heard him excuse himself yet Stannis eyed his coming with great interest. His lord towered over Davos, his jaw grinding while those dark blue eyes narrowed on the family reunion.

“Did he speak of it?” Stannis asked gruffly. “Arryn told Robert to keep it quiet, so of course my brother chatters away about it before half the court. Lyanna’s son has always robbed him of sense.”

“M’lord? I don’t follow-”

“You were a smuggler, not a fool,” the lord turned to glower at him then. “Much has been discussed here without your knowledge, but Robert’s meaning is plain.”

He might not be able to read… yet Davos could do sums well enough and more than that he could listen. Something Jon Arryn said guided him to Stannis’s meaning.

“Lord Arryn spoke of charges. Lord Robert of a young falcon. I believe Robb Stark will not be the only heir to foster at Storm’s End.”

Stannis gave a nod, “And right there my Onion Knight proves to have more wits than half the lords in the realm. When we leave for home, Robert Arryn comes with.”

That came as a shock. Robert Arryn was a sickly child, weak and prone to fits, certainly not the type of boy that Robert would welcome to his care. Stannis spotted his confusion and grunted.

“Jon Arryn sprung it on Robert last night and was not disappointed. My brother denies the old lord little. Bending the knee to Rhaegar, coming here, taking that boy, Robert treats Arryn’s whims with more regard than the counsel of his own kin.”

“Lord Robert has no better advisor than you,” he spoke truthfully. Despite the lord’s harsh manner and poor relationship with Robert, there was none more dedicated to House Baratheon’s survival and prosperity than Stannis.

“At least we’re taking in heirs instead of more bastards,” Stannis ground his teeth. “Speak to none of this, ser. Arryn’s yet to find the nerve to tell his wife. The woman spoils the boy. He’s more coddled than Renly ever was.”

The ire Stannis held towards his younger brother came across as more bitter of late. Robert’s decision to send Renly to represent Baratheon interests at court had not gone over well with Stannis. He feared Stannis quite alone in that opinion, for the youngest Baratheon brother certainly fit in well here in the capital. At that very moment, Renly was conversing with a number of highborns, Prince Aegon among them. They were sharing a laugh and it was hard to imagine Stannis ever inspiring the same good cheer. He was a man of hard truths.

_And truths aren’t traded as widely at court as gossip and whispers._

The king himself was guilty of that. Rhaegar shared a few whispered words with Prince Daeron while the Kingsguard’s foul eye stared at the Baratheon reunion. The glare did not abate when Lord Arryn led Robert and Jon towards the royal family. He marked it odd how all three seemed completely focused on the young heir.

As was Stannis.

“Nothing has changed,” Stannis noted in a strange tone. “Look at that Stark boy, he’s got the look of his mother, yes, but he has the build of his father. Lyanna’s boy though… any stranger would be pressed to see Robert in him.”

“Perhaps it is a comfort to the lord, to see so much of Lady Lyanna in Jon.”

“And no Baratheon at all,” Stannis’s gaze moved to Edric. “Some in the Stormlands speak of how the moment Robert refused to press the rebellion, he was cursed. Nonsense, of course. Yet every Baratheon, trueborn or not, looks the part. All save its heir, whom Robert coddles so.”

Davos had no answer to that. Nor did he much care for what the question implied. He didn’t have the chance to think on it though. Prince Aegon soon emerged from crowd leading Princess Daenerys, a radiant young beauty, on to the front of the court. Robert eyed the girl appraisingly while Lord Arryn urged Jon to greet her.

The dark youth bowed in respect, though his movements were hurried and awkward. Davos doubted Princess Daenerys even noticed, for the silver maiden kept her eyes lowered as she curtsied in a shy manner.

“So it starts,” Stannis spoke with an air of distaste. “The grand reconciliation. All the fury Robert held towards the dragons will be forgotten. The siege of Storm’s End, those months the castle spent starving, our men wasting away before my eyes, forgiven. All so Robert’s boy can get himself a princess.”

“Lord Jon? Him and the princess?” Davos asked in astonishment, his hands going to his finger bones at the thought of a Targaryen at Storm’s End.

“They are to wed,” Stannis grunted his affirmation. “Now tell me, my honest knight, who will their child look like? Which family will the next Baratheon heir take after?”

“Stark or Targaryen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr user jvogel54321 did some excellent work beta'ing this for me. Gladiator, I salute you.


	4. Betrothals and Betrayals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forging the chain. The burdens to bear. The broken links.

**DAENERYS  
** _The Royal Sept_

Everything felt numb.

Not just her body, but her mind itself. She felt as lifeless as the stone statues standing in the altars of the sept. The crystal windows set high in the walls usually sparkled with such radiance as they inspired her prayers. Now they were dark and lifeless, for night had fallen.

A strange time for Rhaegar, Shaena and the rest of her brothers to gather in the holy sept.

_Stranger than being betrothed to the son of a man who hates us?_

“I don’t understand,” her voice felt like it came out a whisper. “Rhaegar… what are you saying?”

Again, all their eyes fell on her. Jaehaerys looked on with pity, while Daeron only did so for a moment before fiddling idly with the pommel of his sword. Egg and Shaena shared some angry whispers and Viserys appeared quite impatient for this to be done with.

“Don’t act simple,” snapped Viserys. “You heard him, same as the rest of us. Our brother has decided to throw you to a pack of traitorous brutes.”

“Stop that. You’re scaring her,” Daeron grumbled from his place beside Rhaegar, giving Dany a weak, reassuring smile.

“There’s no need to be afraid, Daenerys,” Rhaegar urged gently. “Robert Baratheon means you no harm. He wishes much as I do to see you wed to his son, Jon.”

Hearing it again didn’t make the betrothal feel any more real. She’d only just met Jon Baratheon a week past and was not all too sure what to make of him. He was handsome to be sure, yet laughter and jests which came easily to Robert Baratheon or Robb Stark, were rare in Jon. Truly, Dany found him to be far more serious and guarded than any young man had any right to be.

“He is a stranger to me,” she found herself saying. “I barely know him.”

“You shall come to know him,” Rhaegar answered. “With their new seat on the small council, the Baratheons will be playing a more active role at court and I’ve had assurances that Jon shall visit often. The wedding itself is years away, for Lord Robert and I agreed it should not happen before your sixteenth nameday.”

“Two years,” said Egg. He began to pluck at his golden doublet nervously. “The three hundredth year of Aegon’s Conquest.”

“Marvelous,” Shaena added bitterly as she went to seek some candles. “What better way to mark the victory of our ancestor than debasing ourselves to a rebel lord?"

Rhaegar’s face clouded in anger, “I knew you would not see the value in this.”

“So that’s why you kept it from me and the others? To stop us from speaking sense to you?”

“He told me.” Daeron leaned back against an altar for the Warrior before jerking a thumb towards where Jay stood below the Stranger. “Jaehaerys too. Who do you think met with the stags?”

“What?” Shaena and Viserys asked in unison, Egg’s jaw dropping at the revelation.

Dany couldn’t believe her sweet Jay could be a part of this betrayal. Yet there he was, reddening with guilt and shame.

“Rhaegar wanted the talks to be private,” he said softly. “Few care what goes on at Dragonstone so Renly Baratheon and I were able to conduct things with ease…”

Jay met her gaze and did his best to smile. “You’ll be the Lady of Storm’s End, Dany. A great castle, wealthy in lands and legends. By all accounts, Jon Baratheon’s a fine young man.”

“One with great promise,” Rhaegar added, earning a scoff from Shaena. While their sister turned her back on the king, Egg stepped forward hands clasped together.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Rhaegar. It undoubtedly wise to bring the Baratheons back on side, but you give too much.” Egg argued, squeezing Dany’s shoulder absently. “Offering Daenerys’s hand in marriage should be enough. After all, Lord Robert’s fealty has been weak at best and giving the Baratheons a seat on the small council sends the wrong message. What are leal lords to take from this?”

“Peace,” Jay spoke up. “If House Baratheon keeps their blades sheathed, the lords of the realm can tend their lands and families rather than marching off to war.”

“War may still come,” Daeron added. “Robert has always been a toe away from rebellion, but his treason is nothing compared to the Blackfyres. If this talk from the east is true, we best reconcile the Baratheons now lest this new pretender find powerful allies here in the realm.”

“What sort of dragons are you?” Viserys gestured to the statue of the warrior looming above. “It’s for our enemies to fear our coming, not the other way around.”

“Our coming?” Daeron’s slit eye gleamed in the torchlight. “Go on Viserys, regale us with tales of your martial prowess and vanquished foes.”

After that, her brothers fell into all too familiar bickering; Egg pleading with Rhaegar to award another loyal family with a council seat to offset the Baratheons, Jay chiding Daeron for antagonizing Viserys, Daeron laughing at how upset Viserys became. Amidst all this, Shaena began to light candles at the altar of the Crone, kneeling in silent prayer while the arguments grew louder.

None paid Dany any mind, which fueled the turmoil within her.

“No one can force another to marry,” she declared. Her words ending the squabbling so her family stood as quiet and still as the statues of the Seven themselves. Rhaegar even had the gall to look shocked to hear her say so.

“Daenerys, this will help-”

“You didn’t even ask.” She blinked back her anger to stare into those deep indigo eyes. “Aegon and Visenya get to travel to faraway places, exploring the world and having adventures. But not me. You kept me here and I never once complained. Not once. I love my home. My family. If you wanted me to help, why didn’t you just ask?”

Though Rhaegar was at a loss for words, Daeron and Egg were not.

“The king does not ask.” Daeron sounded disappointed in her. “He commands, we obey.”

“Our first duty is to the Iron Throne, child,” Egg added. “Then to our family. Ourselves last, always last.”

“None of you have to marry our enemy!” She pointed at each of them in turn. “Daeron got to be a Kingsguard. Egg always cared for Cersei. Jay loved Lynesse. And Viserys-”

Daeron raised a hand, “To be fair, we tried to give him to the Baratheons. They didn’t want him.”

“Well, he’ll probably get more of a say in his match than I did.”

“And I had no say whatsoever in mine,” Shaena said from where she knelt in prayer. “So stop this, Daenerys. I share your anger but the pact is forged. To break it now would make our family everything Lord Robert and his ilk think us to be.”

The queen finally faced her, a mask of calm covering her face, “Just as I pray the Baratheons are not what I think them to be. For the Seven Above to make Jon Baratheon worthy of my sister.”

Now she was truly alone. With Shaena on her side, there was hope Rhaegar might change his mind. Yet with both the king and queen against her, Dany realized she was trapped as well as betrothed. A deep pit opened up within her, a dark chasm where her heart fell into terrible sorrow. This was a nightmare. Her nightmare.

Were she still a little girl, Dany would run to Rhaegar and Shaena for comfort. They always looked after her.

_Now they abandon me… no, it’s worse than that._

_They’re throwing me away._

The tears came then. Quiet sobs which wracked her body and drained her terribly.

“Everyone but Shaena, leave us,” Rhaegar commanded, ushering the rest out.

“I’m sorry, _Silverbright_ ,” Daeron bowed to her as he went. “Trust in our brother. He’ll do right by you.”

None of the others dared to offer any more encouragements as they left her with the king and queen, and the gods themselves.

“You feel I have forced this on you, and that pains me,” Rhaegar spoke in a tone as close to fatherly as Dany had ever known. “Shaena and I were matched by father’s will, not our own. Yet we wed all the same, as my children will wed whomever I choose for them. For the realm that I wish to build, sacrifices must be made… I’m sorry your choice in this was one of them. I pray the day you go before the septon to wed Jon, it will be willingly.”

“Not that it would matter if you didn’t,” Shaena sighed, rising to her feet and brushing Rhaegar back to hug her close. “There’ll be no need to force you though. Whatever your feelings, you will walk down that aisle, as I had to and our mother before us.”

She cupped her cheeks to kiss Dany’s tears away. “We raised you to be a princess. One who who knows her duty. So tell me who you are. What you are.”

“I am a Targaryen.” Dany closed her eyes to stop the tears, “Blood of the dragon.”

“None will ever doubt it,” Rhaegar said, taking her hand and leading her to stand before him. “Trust me in this, as I trust you. What I tell you now is known to none outside a select few. Yours is not the only marriage we’ve arranged. Both my children shall wed before you.”

“Aegon and Visenya?” She asked in surprise. “Truly? To who?”

“Families we wish to keep close,” Shaena leaned down to whisper in her ear. “The Tyrells for one. Aegon will marry Margaery Tyrell, the rose of the Reach herself. A match worthy of the heir to the throne.”

_That won’t matter to the ladies of court._

_Aegon has more admirers here than Rhaegar even._

“What about Visenya?”

“Our daughter will wed Ser Edmure Tully,” Rhaegar said with little cheer. “Another match to weaken the alliance forged against our father.”

He kissed her hand as if in apology, “See? The burden does not rest solely on your shoulders. Your marriage to Jon is but one link in a chain which keeps the Seven Kingdoms bound to House Targaryen.”

Dany wiped at her eyes, her mind alive with all she’d learned. Edmure Tully was the heir to Riverrun, and House Tully was one of four Great Houses bound through marriage in an alliance; Tully, Stark, Baratheon, and Arryn.

“This is all to break the rebels,” she said. “Lord Arryn is Hand, Visenya betrothed to a Tully and me to a Baratheon, that’s three of the four great families who that rose up against father. Fighting them would be bloody, but wedding them…”

“May finally put the ghosts of the rebellion at rest,” finished Rhaegar.

“What of the Starks?”

“Oh, they’ll take notice.” Shaena glared at their brother. “Eddard Stark was there when Rhaegar handed Lyanna that crown of winter roses. Handing you over to Lyanna’s son, that’s a gift Lord Stark might actually welcome…”

Rhaegar raised a hand up to silence Shaena. “You’re right, Daenerys. Overtures will need to be made to the Starks. That is all I’ll say on the matter.” His face softened some then. “My dear sister, you have a shrewd mind. Show you have an open one too. Pledge here, before the Seven, that you will keep our confidence. That you will honor the betrothal to Jon Baratheon.”

Dany said nothing at first. She merely stood there, silently looking between her brother and sister, and the seven statues ringing them. Then she realized there was no thinking of Rhaegar and Shaena as siblings then. They were the king and queen of Seven Kingdoms. The statues gazing down on her may have been made of stone, yet in their bejeweled eyes she felt the judgement of the Seven themselves.

_They’re not truly asking your blessing. It’s your submission they want._

_To do as the crown demands… to be loyal._

“I will do it.” She lowered her head, keeling upon the hard floor, dirtying her skirts. “By the Seven, I name myself a loyal subject to my king. By fire and blood, I pledge to wed whom you wish.”

Only then did she look up, keeping her tears at bay, “Whatever my dreams, my hopes, they will be forgotten. All to please Your Majesty.”

The words hurt her so to say, and anger tinged her heart when Rhaegar acted pained to hear them. He was moving as if to help her rise when Shaena cut in, taking Dany and lifting her up. Though her sister’s eyes glistened, she saw a fierce pride within them.

“Now you know the burden, Daenerys. That of womanhood. And you are right.”

“Forget the girl you were. Forget the girl, so the woman might be born.”

**JON  
** _The Great Hall_

At times like these, Jon envied his uncle in the Night’s Watch. Far away at the Wall, Benjen didn’t have to endure watching the Targaryens play host to House Baratheon.

The feast was a grand one to be sure, the largest he had ever taken part in. Hundreds packed the tables of the royal hall, and scores of colorful banners hung from walls. Serving folk rushed about with food and drink as minstrels played lively tunes, to the laughter and merriment of all.

Save for where Jon sat. The high table was split almost evenly between the royal family and his own. Neither side appearing pleased with the arrangement.

_Of course not, father has hated the king as long as I can remember._

_And the dragons know it, he was never shy in saying so._

Of all the things he expected of his return to the south, Jon never could have imagined seeing the Lord of Storm’s End sitting beside King Rhaegar himself.

Yet there they were, Lord Robert looking every bit as uncomfortable as the king beside him. The two men acted as a border of sorts between the two sides and, by his count, less than a handful of words had passed between them in the last hour or so.

“This is painful,” whispered Robb. “Remember that time my father hosted Lord Bolton? Awkward as they were, the king and your father make them look like giddy maids.”

“Not so loud,” he whispered back, though thankful his father had insisted on Robb sitting so close. Robb had kept him in high spirits their entire trip south. Though with the pair now sitting amidst a gathering of dragons and stags, his cousin had his work cut out for him.

Further down the table were Jon’s uncles, Renly and Stannis, who were as different as night and day. While Renly grinned widely to jest with Robb, Stannis sat grim-faced and quiet. After his uncles came Stannis’s wife, Lady Selyse Florent, and their young daughter Shireen, who earned Jon’s pity for being stuck alone beside her unpleasant mother.

To the other side of the king, the table was crammed full of dragons. At the end was Prince Viserys, who drank wine by himself. The tall Prince Jaehaerys sat with his pregnant wife, the Lady Lynesse Hightower. Kindly Prince Aegon was suggesting names to them while his Lannister wife showed little interest, Princess Cersei choosing to gaze unhappily to where her royal brood sat at a lower table.

If the princess could be accounted a golden beauty, the women sitting nearest the king were silver treasures. Queen Shaena looked regal in a deep black gown, her chin lifted high, as if her crown weighed little more than a feather. To her left, sat Princess Daenerys.

If the queen intimidated, the younger princess inspired. Daenerys wore a gown the color of purple orchids with white trim about the neck, which her long silver-blonde hair cascaded over. Somehow this made her amethyst eyes stand out even more, for Jon felt they were shining as brightly as the stars at night.

Yet he did not dare let his gaze linger, lest his face burn up in embarrassment again. Just as it had when the king introduced the princess as his betrothed.

_I’m meant to marry a princess I can barely look at, let alone talk to._

_I wanted to be less of a disappointment to my father, now he wants me to marry sister of a man he hates…_

He sought distraction in those sitting among the lower tables, looking to the offspring of Prince Aegon. Like his father, Prince Joffrey wore some of the finest clothing in the hall, yet Jon did not find any of Prince Aegon’s pleasantness in his son. Aegon’s younger children were a different story, for Myrcella and Tommen brimmed with the same child-like innocence Jon found endearing in Arya and Bran.

Farther away were some familiar faces. Jory and Alyn were sharing wine with Ser Jaremy Rykker of the Night’s Watch. He remembered the Starks hosting Ser Jaremy years ago during his journey south. At the time, his uncle Eddard had mixed feelings on the arrangement, believing a sworn brother should be manning the Wall, not living at court. Yet with the passing of years and the crown sending more men and wealth to aid the Night’s Watch, his lord uncle was heard to say the Wall was better off. Ser Jaremy’s time in the time south had certainly done him well. His noble face showed more color than Jon recalled and never before had he seen the blacks of the Night’s Watch looking so clean and regal.

His gaze drifted toward his father’s vassals then. Many stormlords had followed their lord paramount to the capital in a show of support. He was pleased to note Lord Selwyn Tarth and Lord Beric Dondarrion among their number. Although Grandisons and Wyldes boasted the largest parties, the Estermonts sat closer to the high table, being kin to his father.

Not all their blood ties were treated so well. Proof of that could be found at the distant table of the Baratheon household. There he saw the grizzled Ser Colen of Greenpools, his grey beard freshly trimmed and surcoat adorned with bluejays. Ser Davos dressed as he always did, in his simple brown and green wool mantle. However he lacked in grandeur, Ser Davos made up for with his pleasant demeanor, the ser bore a genuine smile as he watched Devan and Edric laugh over some jest. It raised Jon’s spirits some to see his younger brother having such a grand time. Especially after what happened earlier.

He had seen how disappointed Edric was when their lord father ordered him to sit with the Seaworths.

_Edric’s not half as good at hiding the hurt as Gendry and Mya. The cuts had to go deep for them to ever betray their feelings._

_With everyone away from Storm’s End perhaps Ser Courtney or Maester Cressen will let them eat at our table. Where they belong…_

“Eat up, Jon,” his father urged, Lord Robert grabbing at his arm and squeezing it tightly with his powerful hand. “There’s strength here but little enough meat on your bones! Robb!” He called, to the lordling, “Did Ned not feed him properly?”

“He tried!” Robb laughed to say. “Problem was half the food we put on Jon’s plate somehow ended up with the wolves. No matter what my mother said he’d feed them straight from the table.”

“I only did that once,” he argued, yet Robb’s raised eyebrow set him to grinning. “Alright, a few times… maybe ten.”

His cousin laughed again and Jon felt there was no way to fully measure Robb’s worth to him.

Father nudged him playfully, “Poor with numbers, eh lad? You get that from me. I drove poor Cressen half mad before he realized I was not meant for figures.”

“He was able enough to teach Renly and I,” Stannis noted with little cheer. Though this marked one of the rare times Stannis spoke this evening, father ignored his brother still.

“Now the softheartedness, that’s your mother without a doubt,” Lord Robert drank deeply of his goblet, red wine dripping down his thick beard. “Lyanna took pity on anything and everything. She might have taken your side on letting those wild beasts in here.”

“Ghost and Grey Wind aren’t wild,” he repeated once more, still annoyed that the direwolves had been barred from the hall. “They ate in the Great Hall of Winterfell with the entire household and never caused trouble.”

“Don’t sulk. You made a choice, stand by it like a man.”

“What choice?” he asked. “The kennels or out the gates altogether. That’s no true choice. Either way you forbid them. Just like Mya and Gend-”

“Your direwolves are magnificent creatures.” King Rhaegar interrupted, the king’s iron tones quieting much discussion at the table. “I have never seen their like before. How does a young man come to claim ownership of a direwolf?”

“Well, we found them as pups. Their mother had died,” he answered, noting how all stared at him save the king himself. “There were six in all, one for each of Lord Stark’s children and me. Robb named his Grey Wind. Mine is Ghost.”

“That would be the albino wolf,” the king said, still not looking his way. “Did you choose the name to make others afraid of him?”

“No, Your Grace. I named him so because he never makes a sound.”

“A mute,” Robb added. “We nearly missed him that day because of it. Lucky for Ghost, Jon found him. He didn’t balk once to raise the runt of the litter.”

“I daresay none could call Ghost a runt now,” King Rhaegar finally met his gaze, and he found a deep sadness in those dark eyes. “From what I’ve seen, Ghost was brought up well. Cared for in the proper way. To my eye, he is noble and strong. Any would be proud to call him their own.”

The king then dipped his head in a nod of respect. When Jon did the same, a smile pulled at the edges of King Rhaegar’s mouth. He was supposed to hate the king, yet in this moment of shared regard, Jon could not summon one foul thought whatsoever.

Unlike others.

“They are frightful creatures,” his aunt Selyse spoke haughtily. “They belong in the frozen North, not at a castle as grand as Storm’s End.”

“Or the Red Keep,” Prince Viserys filled another goblet, smirking at Lord Robert. “Some beasts ought not to be welcome at court.”

At that Prince Aegon choked on his wine. Jon watched how his father tensed, his hands becoming fists. The lord was opening his mouth to speak when another did so first.

“They are wonders to me,” said Princess Daenerys. Her words were for all but her eyes for Jon alone. “The direwolves. I was told the sigil of the Starks went extinct in our lands. Long before we Targaryens lost the last of our dragons.”

“That’s true,” he said. “The direwolves were lost within the Seven Kingdoms. The Starks think they travelled from elsewhere.”

While the others appeared confused the princess’s face brightened.

“They came from beyond the Wall, didn’t they? From the lands of wildlings and the Others-”

“Others?” Queen Shaena smiled, patting the princess’s hand. “My sister has a grand imagination. Let’s stop before we begin discussing grumpkins as well.”

“But why?” Renly asked. “Delightful as she is, Princess Daenerys might just win us over on their existence.” His uncle beamed with all the charm Jon lacked, “From what I’ve seen so far, Storm’s End will soon gain a princess as lovely as she is wise.”

“Our sister is well-read and spirited,” Prince Aegon lifted a cup at him. “The king has promised you a dragon, young Jon. And a dragon you shall be getting.”

“To spirited brides,” Robb raised his cup, smiling widely and nudging Jon.

“Ha!” Lord Robert laughed, joining the toast. “Just like my Lyanna. To spirited brides!”

With his cheeks aflame, Jon raised his cup up as the king did the same. The princess was clearly mortified at the spectacle, her eyes locked on the table the whole time. Yet as he was thinking of ways to get Robb back, a gasp went up from the other side of the table.

Lady Lynesse held a hand to her mouth as she watched Viserys’ goblet spill out onto the ground before he let the cup fall with it. The metallic thud sounded thunderous considering the quiet which had descended on the table.

“Apologies,” shrugged the prince. “My fingers lost their grip. A shame for such fine wine to be wasted on so unworthy an ideal.” Viserys then had the gall to sneer at his father. “After all, that spirited bride of yours was more trouble than she was worth. For you and my brother both-”

“You dare?!” Lord Robert thundered, his fist slamming into the table so hard more goblets upturned. “No one, especially not a pampered frail of a fool can insult my love without answering for it. Dragon be damned, I’ll have an apology or you’ll be meeting my hammer.”

Prince Aegon blanched, “My lord, you cannot threaten the king’s brother at his own table.”

“Nor should some drunk insult my mother,” Jon replied hotly, watching how the Dragonseye took a step towards his father before the king stopped him.

“None of this is acceptable,” King Rhaegar declared, his lips pursed in anger to glare at Viserys. “Yet the provocation speaks for itself. You insulted Lord Robert. A guest at my table. Give the lord what he is due.”

“Why? You never did,” Prince Viserys grumbled, trying to drink from Prince Jaehaerys’s cup, which the knight denied him.

“Viserys, stop. We talked this over. This isn’t how you rise-”

“Oh, Jay. You’re as bad as the rest,” Viserys sounded genuinely hurt but none on Jon’s side of the table were sympathetic in the least.

A few whispered words passed between the king and the Dragonseye then. The Kingsguard strode over to the drunken prince while the king turned to his father.

“It appears my brother is too drunk to acquit himself as expected. So I offer two apologies, one for allowing Viserys to make such a shameful display, and the other for the slight done to Lady Lyanna. She deserves better.”

“She did have better,” father growled at the king, his fist clenching and unclenching. With the lord so angry, Jon saw little chance of his father accepting the apology.

“Come along, Viserys,” Prince Daeron began tugging at his brother forcefully. “You got wine on your doublet. Let’s have that changed.”

“Don’t you manhandle me.”

“I’m helping you stand,” the Dragonseye replied gruffly, forcing the younger prince onto his feet. “Keep this up and you’ll know the difference soon enough.”

The knight tightened his grip on Viserys’s arm and he saw the prince wince. As both left the table and strode out of the hall, half those seated below whispered after them. The rest stared at the standoff between King Rhaegar and Lord Robert.

“Come on, Robert,” Renly urged. “We all know the evils of too much wine.”

“Don’t tell me what I know,” the lord shot back, only turning from the king when Jon put a hand to his arm.

“Father, it’s at an end. The king made amends.”

“You think so?” Father’s tone was harsh, yet after staring at Jon’s face for a moment, his anger faltered some. “There’s that softheartedness. Your mother would be saying the same… I wish she could.”

He clapped him on the shoulder, so hard Jon’s teeth rattled, “It’s good to have you back, son.”

Lord Robert regarded the king again, no warmth within his gaze, yet little rage either.

“For Lyanna’s sake, I accept your apologies. For the sake of my son, I offer one of my own. I went too far in my fury. The man was drunk and my words a tad too fiery.”

“Your family does boast of its fury,” King Rhaegar nodded Jon’s way. “And I would not be much of dragon if I could not endure a touch of fire. Let it be forgotten.”

“Forgiven at the very least,” Queen Shaena sighed, looking with disappointment at the two men. “I would hope it’s in us to get through the rest of this meal in peace.”

Lady Cersei scoffed, “My husband predicted a lively feast. I did not expect it to prove such a spectacle.”

“Thankfully, not too foul of one,” Prince Aegon quickly added. “No undo harm was done.”

“Oh?” Stannis finally looked up from his meal. “By what measure? The Tourney of Harrenhal perhaps?”

After that, there was less talk than before. He did not bother to look the princess’ way again. She had heard his words against Viserys, her own brother. Whatever good impression he hoped to make was ruined for the nonce. Despite the toasts to their betrothal, he felt in no mood to celebrate. Happy beyond words when the feast came to an end, he seemed free to retire with Robb to seek out Edric and the wolves.

Except his father was having none of it.

“Join your father on a walk,” Lord Robert demanded of him, snatching up a skin of wine and guiding him forcefully out of the hall. “It’s been too long since we did so.”

Truly they hadn’t taken walks together at Storm’s End either. He remembered doing so once as a boy, a memory which ended with him falling and father scolding him for weeping at his bloody knee.

To fall from the walls of the Red Keep would lead to an uglier fate. Father led them up to the battlements, where they strolled atop the massive curtain walls with its countless crenellations and thick stone parapets. The city below flickered with thousands of lights and he found himself missing the wilderness of the North. Especially when the breeze carried the city’s stench up to him. As the smells of piss and shit assaulted his nose, he imagined a strong northern wind blowing through, bringing with it the rich scent of pine and the subtle hint of a summer snow.

To look at his father was to find him lost in thought as well.

“In a different life, I would have scaled these walls,” Lord Robert said, taking a swig of his wine. “Forget the Kingslayer, it would’ve been me to kill the Mad King. Him. Rhaegar. The Dragonseye. Every dragon I could get my hands on.”

“Father, be careful,” he warned, looking about in worry if any had heard. What guards he saw were distant still.

“After that farce, I’ll say what I damn want,” said Lord Robert. “I can lie for your good but not to you, boy. Nearly couldn’t manage that. Fucking Rhaegar.”

He spit in disgust, “Gods I hate that man. Rhaegar’s Rebellion… the bastard came late to the fight and took all the credit. He shamed us all at Harrenhal. Now that sot of a brother tries to slight me for it? Were we at Storm’s End and he spoke so…”

“Then why are we here, father? All I heard growing up was how we owe nothing to the king.”

“I meant every word. None of this is for the dragons. It’s for you. You and your mother. She died to give me a son and I’d not fail her again.”

Father paused to hand off the skin to him. He drank deeply of the wine, gulping down more of the bitter spirit than he wanted to impress the lord. When some dribbled out the side of his mouth, his father gave a laugh.

“You’ve got the Baratheon thirst, that’s for sure. Beyond that… I gave you little else, Jon. It is long passed time I change that.”

“I never lacked for anything,” he said, holding back so much. “Father, sending me to Winterfell, it was everything you promised. Lord Stark taught me honor, he told me much of my mother. And of my father.”

“Aw, Ned. The brother I chose,” the lord smiled. “Telling tales of our days at the Eyrie, was he? Well, it was Jon Arryn who put all this in my head. Him pestering me to make the Baratheon name mean more than rebellion again. All that time I scorned the throne others rose in our place. The Tyrells, the Lannisters, the Martells, all snakes kissing Rhaegar’s arse while he makes a bloody mess of the realm.”

Even in the North, there was talk of the king’s strange views on things. Some of it didn’t sound so bad to him. Like making sure lords treated their smallfolk right. Uncle Ned already did so and he saw the loyalty it earned. He doubted his father wanted to hear any of that.

“We’re going to set things right again,” father continued, shaking Jon’s shoulders some. “You and I, together. I’ve already won a place on the small council and the gods know Jon Arryn needs allies there. Renly will sit it for me, he does like to blather on and on. After you marry that girl, you’ll take my place here. It will be on you to strengthen our foothold in the court. As we rise, our influence will keep Rhaegar in check. I won’t let him make a mess of things again.”

“So that’s it,” he said dejectedly. “I’m to marry Princess Daenerys so you can challenge the king without looking a rebel.”

“A royal bride is nothing to scoff at. Besides, did you get a look at that girl?” His father stroked his beard and licked his lips obscenely. “I was half tempted to take her to wife myself. Yes, your children will be half dragonspawn, but think of the fun to be had in making them.”

He laughed again, taking some more wine before looking at the skin in a skeptical way. “I’ll have to watch my drinking at the wedding, wouldn’t want to get too carried away with the bedding. That girl will need a gentle touch.”

None of this should have surprised him. This was what life with his father had always been. Lord Robert often acted on whims which he claimed were for Jon’s good yet served his own ends. Bringing his half-siblings to Storm’s End. Sending him to Winterfell. All things he grew to be thankful for, yet always knew to be his father’s way of handing him off.

_Avoiding responsibility for a son who often disappoints._

_Now he hands me off to the Targaryens…_

“I’ll do as you will, father,” he said, fighting back his boyish urge to argue. “I won’t fail House Baratheon, nor my future wife. I will treat Princess Daenerys well and with honor.”

“You’ll try,” Lord Robert shoved the wine at him again. “Tell me, did you father any bastards up at Winterfell? Tell me some northern lass spread her wools so you could make a little summer Snow of your own?”

“No,” he flushed. “I wouldn’t. The world’s too hard on bastards. After what Gendry and Mya went through-”

“Oh they’re fine. Best treated bastards in the realm. Truly the good will I show them is a great burden on me. Forget Selyse being offended. Every wench I so much as touch shows up at the castle gates begging with a whelp in her arms. I doubt half are even mine.”

“But half could be.” He needed no urging to drink this time, his thoughts on Gendry and Mya driving him to it. “It’s not right, father. The wenching, all the children that come of it. You took in three and leave the rest to the fates. Their lord… their father owes them better.”

“What about what I’m owed?” Lord Robert turned to grab the wall, glaring up at the night sky and the stars above. “I can fuck every woman that lives and it won’t make up for what the gods took from me. They knew who I wanted… I want her still.”

“You do no honor to mother’s memory acting so.”

“Don’t I?” the lord shook his head. “The women mean nothing. I’ve never remarried. I never will. I wed the finest woman that ever lived. Yes, I’ve fucked a hundred more since. None have I loved like Lyanna. She was mine, I was hers. Forever and always… seven hells, where’s that wine?”

Father snatched it away violently, draining it completely before tossing the empty skin off the walls with a curse.

“The Targaryens robbed us of our time together. I’ll never forgive them for that.” Lord Robert looked to him. “But as happy as war makes me, Lyanna made me happier. She gave me a son.”

Robert Baratheon was a powerful man, yet when he cupped the side of Jon’s head, his calloused hand felt almost gentle.

“For you, I can be at peace.”

**CERSEI  
** _Maegor’s Holdfast_

In her dreams she was the true queen. Lords both great and small knelt to their golden monarch, the silver bitch forgotten.

Dreams proven false each time Cersei awoke and the truth came back like a slap to the face. The first clue was always her chambers here in the Red Keep. Rhaegar ruled the Seven Kingdoms, but Shaena treated his castle and everything in it as her domain, thus why Cersei was only bequeathed a visitor’s gallery here.

Her chambers at Casterly Rock were thrice the size and far more splendid. Whenever she confronted Aegon with these simple truths his solutions were even more disappointing. Of course she knew there were better places available in the Red Keep. The problem was none of them were in Maegor’s Holdfast, the fortress where the king and queen kept their chambers. A larger room elsewhere held none of the power and prestige Cersei found by staying within these walls.

_The only place in this castle worthy of a daughter of Casterly Rock. A princess thrice the lady Rhaegar’s wife could ever be._

Sadly the company she was keeping did not feel becoming of a queen. She had left her guest waiting in the gallery for some time now, as befit his station. Petyr Baelish might name himself a lord but to Cersei he was little more than an up-jumped merchant. One who happened to play a key part of the Hand’s household and was privy to things even Aegon failed to learn.

_Like the chambermaid who empties my privy pot, I’ll stomach his presence for as long as he has his uses._

“Your Grace,” Baelish bowed when she finally admitted him, his eyes moving appraisingly about the room. “I spy a new tapestry or two. Quite majestic, really. They do suit your chambers.”

“Save your attempts at charm. I do not seek praise from a man better suited to decorating brothels,” she scoffed, waving a hand for him to rise.

He grinned. “I like to think I have refined taste. My business draws only the finest of patrons. Would it surprise you to hear our esteemed envoy from the Night’s Watch chooses to break his vows there? Ser Jaremy should enjoy himself while there’s time, I hear his time in the south will soon be coming to an end. All so the king can summon a new guest from the Wall-”

“I care little for that folly,” Cersei frowned. “If it was up to me that man would still be freezing up at the Wall in the company of cutthroats and rapers. We’ve little need for an envoy to know the Night’s Watch is in a sorry state.”

“Of course, of course.” Baelish touched his chin. “Well, the ser is not my most important of patrons. Prince Viserys visits regularly enough though another unwed prince has become more frequent of late…”

“Daeron?” she laughed at the thought of Rhaegar’s butcher breaking his vows with whores. “How hefty a sum do the slatterns charge to bed that creature?”

“Alas, wrong prince. The Dragonseye isn’t the type to be tempted by my girls. Or any others. He’s too _dedicated_ to his sworn brothers,” Baelish smirked at that. “It’s Oberyn Martell I speak of, or the Master of Sighs as my girls have taken to calling him.”

“This isn’t news, all know the Red Viper beds whores. He flaunts that Ellaria Sand about every chance he gets. A paramour he calls her, at Casterly Rock we know what to do with whores.”

Baelish pulled at his beard in amusement. “It’s not what he does with my girls that matters, it’s why he visits at all. The viper’s frolics with flesh are part of a celebration. He’s spent weeks in secret talks with King Rhaegar and Lord Arryn. All on behalf of the Prince of Dorne, for Doran Martell seeks royal ties to his family.”

“Another betrothal?” She could hardly believe it.

Much of the court was still in shock following word that Daenerys and Jon Baratheon were now betrothed. A princess of the blood matched to the scion of a disloyal brute. It was an affront to more appropriate options, like her own dear Joffrey. She was hard-pressed to think of a better suitor than him. At first she blamed Shaena, who did all she could to stymie Cersei, often by interfering in the hard work she put into securing Aegon’s advancement.

Yet this time it was Shaena who was frustrated. As it turned out, the meddling woman had been denied knowing the full details of the king’s rapprochement with the Baratheons. Shaena doted on Daenerys, treating her more like a daughter than a sister and her disapproval of the match was plain to any with half a mind. If Shaena’s absence during the betrothal announcement somehow went unnoticed none could miss her displeasure at that disaster of a welcoming feast.

All of which delighted Cersei to no end. So much so that she nearly licked her lips in anticipation to think more disappointment could be on the queen’s way.

“Doran Martell seeks matches for his eldest children and the Red Viper believe himself to have found them. I have learned from a dear friend that certain assurances were given to Doran. The royal family will indeed provide the Martells a bride and groom in the near future.”

“Visenya and the heir,” she mused aloud, ready to celebrate Shaena losing her spoiled brats to the likes of the Dornish and their backward ways.

“I’m afraid not.” There was a twinkle in Baelish’s eyes as he spoke. “Forgive me for delivering such foul news, but it is Queen Shaena’s children being offered. Nor is it Prince Viserys.”

“What? Well that only leaves…”

She drew back at that. The only royalty left unmatched were her own children. Her golden treasures.

_Myrcella and Tommen are too young for such talk… Joffrey far too good for the likes of the Dornish…_

“You’re mistaken,” she snapped, rising from her chair. “My husband would have told me. Or sought out my father’s counsel. Aegon dreams of making Myrcella the next queen.”

“I doubt your husband even knows of the agreement. All of this is meant to be secret until the king gives his assent. Lord Arryn was only just presented with the idea by the viper and the queen.”

“ _This was her_?” Her fingers flexed so that the nails felt like claws. “She dares to try and steal my children away?”

 _Of course she does. Shaena is her father’s daughter_.

If not for the madness of Aerys or Shaena’s accursed birth she would be wearing the crown of a queen. Father had worked hard for years to convince Aerys of the great dynasty the Houses Lannister and Targaryen could build together. Cersei herself could only think of how beautiful Rhaegar was and what wonders their children would be.

Shaena had robbed her of all of that. Now the shrew wanted to steal away her perfect children too. The pureblooded lions she had made with Jaime. Her father might have forced her to wed Aegon, but Cersei chose whose children she bore. Aegon had none of the strength and beauty of Rhaegar, and if she could not have the king, Jaime would be hers.

Littlefinger’s payment for these secrets was cheap in comparison. She gave her word that Aegon would back a rival of Baelish as the King’s Counter against Jon Connington’s preferred candidate. Such a deadlock among the Small Council would leave the door open for Lord Arryn to present a compromise once more.

_Enter Littlefinger and watch his climb up the rungs of power continue._

_I need him there, to keep watch for all the plots that Aegon cannot ferret out himself._

Soon she was on a hunt of her own, seeking out the woman who dared to meddle in her affairs. At this time of day, the royal bitch would be found at the Maidenvault, ruling over her retinue of lickspittles and fools. Such was why Cersei had taken to calling it the Cretin’s Vault.

When she arrived the slant-roofed keep, the scene within was as expected. The bright, open room was filled with Shaena’s flatterers. While the she-dragon shared a luxurious couch with Elia Martell, the rest of her ladies sat about upon pillows. Though other men stood, Oberyn Martell stretched out on a pillow himself, the Red Viper laying alongside his bastard paramour, Ellaria Sand. That Ser Robar Royce of the Kingsguard stood by and allowed such a display marked him an empty suit of armor. She didn’t expect more of the chubby Ser Baldric Wendwater, who was better suited to a hunting party than court.

The retinue all sat nibbling on fruits and sipping of cider, while a slim wisp of a girl played her harp for their entertainment.

With her fair hair and olive skin it was easy recognize the daughter of Elia and Ser Baelor Hightower. Their last child, since it was widely known Elia’s womb was now as useless as her homeland. Just like Shaena, two children was all Elia could give her husband.

_Only the one son each, not the coveted heir and a spare all men seek._

_No wonder Shaena enjoys her company so, they share in the same failure._

The music ended then, but before Cersei could be announced Shaena led the room in applause for the child.

“Well done, niece,” Oberyn said before popping a grape into his mouth. “Soon enough, the whole capital will be filled with whispers of your ability.”

“I’ll help fuel them myself,” Ser Baldric added. “The High Harp of the Hightower has a nice ring to it.”

“That it does. Come here, Elinor,” Shaena beckoned the girl closer so she could plant a kiss on Elinor’s cheek. “Marvelous work, wonderful all around. I was never so accomplished at your age. You’ve been practicing.”

“She has,” Elia beamed with pride. “Her father promised if she did, Elinor could play for the king and court one day.”

Elinor nodded eagerly, “I’d really like to. I want to make the king smile. He always looks so sad.”

“Young lady,” Elia chided but Shaena waved it off.

“Rhaegar has always been melancholy, child. He does take pleasure in his harp but he rarely plays with others. Take heart though, it might be in my power to have the king invite a certain young lady to join him for a duet. That is, if she keeps practicing.”

The child jumped up and down like a simpleton before curtsying and seeking Oberyn to repeat Shaena’s words once more, as if the man hadn’t heard them. The young ladies Desmera Redwyne and Allyria Dayne giggled at Elinor’s excitement and that sealed her dislike for the whole affair. A queen should not oversee the entertainment of children, were Cersei the one to wear the crown she would be above such things. A ruler, not a nursemaid.

A glare to the herald convinced him to forego delaying her announcement any longer.

“Princess Cersei of House Lannister,” the servant declared even as she crossed the room towards Shaena. As befitting her birth, all grew silent at her coming.

“Goodsister, you were not expected,” Shaena said with little warmth. “Feel free to take a seat, if you can find a pillow of your own.”

“We must speak.” She came so close as to look down at the woman. “Alone.”

“I’m afraid it will have to wait. A singer is due to arrive in any moment. After that Elia and I were to meet with Ser Baelor, to discuss names for the new dromond.”

“So far my husband prefers the _Splendid Shaena_ ,” Elia said, earning some laughter from the others that Shaena welcomed.

“As you can see, my companions already know my thoughts on that. To me, warships should inspire fear in their enemies.”

“A queen could do so,” she said. “The right kind that is.”

Shaena’s eyes narrowed on her. “Well, this queen does not want people to think of her as something large, with sailors crawling all over her. Though that might appeal to some. I could suggest your name to Ser Baelor, dear sister.”

The Red Viper chuckled aloud while Ser Baldric tried to hide his laughter behind some awkward coughing. This sort of back and forth often went on for some time yet she had no time for it today.

“Whatever you have planned can wait. I will be heard.”

“You forget yourself, _princess_ ,” Shaena’s mood darkened. “Before you sits a queen. Lion you may be, but marrying into my family does not make you a dragon. So we will speak when I am good-”

“I know what you’ve planned for my children. By the strength of Casterly Rock, I swear it will never happen. You hear me? Never.”

Gasps went up behind her, yet she cared not. The shrew had come after her cubs, of course the lion would roar at such.

To her disappointment, Shaena did not look afraid of her. In fact, she appeared pleased. Shaena quickly nodded at Elia and Oberyn, who had already risen to his feet.

“Leave us.” Shaena commanded, rising from her seat. “It appears Cersei and I do have matters we need to discuss.”

Though continuing to glare at her rival, Cersei noted that nearly all the flatterers were filtering out of the hall. The she-dragon even urged Ser Robar on, forcing the Kingsguard out while Oberyn and Elia had done little save rise from their seats.

“Alone, Shaena. Lest you wish to be embarrassed in front of your Dornish jackals.”

The shrew sighed, “I haven’t allowed your behavior to embarrass me in years, Cersei. They stay.”

“Nor would we leave Her Grace in such poor company,” Oberyn added.

Her hand itched to slap him. “I care not. Let them be the only whim I grant you in this. Forget Aegon, it will be my father I take your plot to. Lord Tywin, the Lion of the West, did you forget it was his grandchildren you’ve put on the auction block? Joffrey and Myrcella will not be wed without our blessing.”

“Who are they to wed?” the Red Viper asked and she scowled at him.

“Do not act as if you do not know.”

“Pretend that we’re ignorant and humor us,” Shaena insisted and she could have strangled the shrew for acting the fool in her own arrangements.

“The Martells,” She nearly spit. “My Joffrey to Arianne, poor Myrcella to Quentyn. All bartered in secret, for you knew damn well I’d never entertain my children being sent to that snakepit.”

“So it was the lady,” Elia spoke softly to Oberyn and Shaena. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be. For the sake of her child.”

“Do not change the subject!” she snapped at the frail excuse of a woman. “We are speaking of my children! So slither back on down to Dorne and tell your crippled prince-”

“Seven hells, Cersei. No one is giving your children away,” Shaena snapped. “They can remain under your care for as long as you wish. May the Mother help them.”

“There are no betrothals,” Oberyn added, his black viper eyes staring intensely at her. “Not between your children and Doran’s at least. It was one of many tales spun to test a theory.”

“A theory? Who are you to spread rumors about my children?”

“The Master of Whisperers,” Elia pointed out. “My brother was doing his duty, princess. Safeguarding the royal family, which I believe includes you and yours.”

She bristled to have this weak woman speak down to her. Before she could put Elia in her place, Shaena stepped between them.

“I wanted few involved in this. You least of all. Yet here we are, so for once in your damnable life, be reasonable. For some time now, we’ve suspected conspirators at work in the Red Keep. Agreements and secrets known only to a certain few were exploited. At first I suspected you-”

“I’m no spy.”

“Quite right. In truth, it’s a spymaster we seek. After Oberyn convinced me you were not bright enough to play such a role, we had to look elsewhere.”

“I had my suspicions,” Oberyn said, bringing a halt to his pacing. “Not necessarily people of status, but those of intelligence. With positions and reach that could be used to great effect. After some… investigations, I named Petyr Baelish as our likely foe.”

“That’s who told you about the betrothals,” Elia pressed softly. “It was Baelish, wasn’t it?”

She was taken aback that her source was so easily known, but Littlefinger was a servant and would be paid for his efforts. Her loyalty to him did not go beyond that.

“Littlefinger informed me of your plots. Not that showing loyalty to a prince and princess of the royal family is named a crime as far as I know.”

“Baelish is loyal to none but himself,” Shaena shot back, clearly agitated. “Though I’d hoped his crimes would not taint any of such import as the Hand of the King. This will shatter the court.”

“You think Jon Arryn his accomplice?” Cersei almost laughed at the idea, for it was Shaena who ushered Jon Arryn into his position as Hand in the first place.

“No, Lord Arryn is likely a victim in this,” Elia said sadly, lowering her eyes. “Though it will not be the lord who suffers the worst of what this revelation will usher in.”

Oberyn shook his head, “Perhaps not, the queen might be able to convince him to retire back to the Vale. None of this need be known.”

“The Hand is old, not a fool,” Cersei said. “One of his servants has been shamed, what of it? The embarrassment is minor. No lord in his right mind would step down from Hand of the King over it.”

“Cersei, none of this was about condemning Littlefinger,” Shaena explained. “Oberyn spread several tales about to discover who was feeding Baelish his information.”

“The lie you heard was only spoken to one in the Hand’s household,” Oberyn added. “One whose position makes her involvement with Baelish give rise to embarrassing questions.”

She began to reflect then on what Baelish had said regarding the Arryns. Of having a friend close to the Hand. At the time, she had cared more for how this talk affected her. Yet now she realized who had arranged to bring Littlefinger to court in the first place.

“Lysa Tully,” Cersei smiled at the revelation. “Sorry, Lysa Arryn. The Hand’s wife sneaking about with the likes of Littlefinger.”

A woman who went behind the back of her husband for another man implied wrongdoing of sorts. She knew this better than most. How such scandals became more dangerous depending on how important those involved were.

Cersei sometimes worried about the harm her own affairs could cause her. A fear gone in the blink of an eye, for she was not the fool Lysa Tully was

And she was too excited at the prospect of witnessing the downfall of a Hand.

**DAENERYS  
** _The Godswood_

Watching Jay and Lynesse together, it was hard not to feel jealous.

Lynesse’s vermilion gown went well with Jay’s crimson doublet, which bore his sigil over the breast, that of the Targaryen dragons quartered. The couple walked side by side through the gardens of the godswood, the lady holding her husband’s arm as he led her along the rows of flowers and rose bushes. Dany was left with Talla and Gael as Daeron lingered just a step or two behind them. Though her brother acted incredibly bored, her friends were anything but.

When Jay stopped to snatch up another flower to place in Lynesse’s hair, both her friends sighed aloud.

“Forget gold and jewels, a flower from a knight will do for me,” Gael whispered a touch too loudly.

“A knight’s affections cannot compare to a prince’s,” Talla said with a faraway look in her eyes. “Romance comes easy to royalty. Imagine it, a handsome man with the realm at his beck and call, and all he can look at is you. It’s the stuff of songs.”

“And Jaehaerys is such a grand singer,” Gael finished with a giggle, to which Daeron made a sickened sound.

“Why, oh why didn’t I let Jaime perform this escort?”

“Because you love me and enjoy my company,” she said, prompting Daeron to wink his good eye at her.

“Who told?” Her brother followed that by holding out an arm for her. “Well, I might as well live up to Lady Tarly’s talk of princes.”

She took his arm without hesitation, for all this talk of romance bothered her so. Rhaegar kept insisting her betrothal to Jon Baratheon was a good match, yet she was doubtful. None of her siblings who married by arrangement could touch the happiness she saw in Jay and Lynesse.

_It’s not like any of their matches were once sworn enemies of our family._

_There’s so much bad blood between Targaryen and Baratheon, there’s no room for love._

Not that love had ever been a consideration in her betrothal. She was close to calling the whole arrangement accursed. Ever since the disastrous announcement feast, a pall had been cast over the court. Rhaegar sending Viserys to Duskendale didn’t upset many, yet it was only the beginning. Over the last few days she’d barely seen Rhaegar or Shaena. The same for Egg and Cersei. Whenever they weren’t attending pleasantries for the Baratheons, all remained locked away with the small council.

There was also talk the Hand had taken ill. Dany feared that to be true, for when she glimpsed him last, Lord Arryn looked pale and poorly.

So when she spotted Lady Lysa and young Robert Arryn strolling though an entrance at the far end of the godswood, she thought to inquire on the lord’s health. Daeron clearly had other plans, for he hurried her on to catch up with Jay and Lynesse, which meant leading them away from the Arryns. Soon enough some shrubbery blocked her view of the lady and her son and she was left wondering at her brother’s odd behaviour.

“Daeron’s a fine name,” he interrupted the couple’s conversation. “That is, if you’re still thinking on what to call the little hatchling.”

“Actually my aunts predict a girl,” Lynesse rubbed at her middle. “They says the way I’m carrying and my cravings for sweets were the same for my mother with me and my sisters.”

“Daera then. Or Daerelle?”

“Stick to swordplay, brother,” Jay jested before looking her way. “No pleas from aunt Daenerys for a namesake niece?”

“I prefer more subtle hints,” she grinned. “Whatever the name, prince or princess, I’ll spoil them all the same.”

Lynesse brightened, “All the more reason for us to stay at court. Dragonstone is no proper place to raise a young royal.”

“My love,” Jay gently cut in, “the king needs me at Dragonstone. The isle was good enough for Aegon the Conqueror…”

“That’s not true. Else there would be no Iron Throne or King’s Landing. Your ancestors built this castle and the city around us for future Targaryens to rule, this is where we belong. If the Baratheons can get a seat on the small council, I’m sure King Rhaegar can find a place for his brother. He’s already found use for our guardsmen.”

“Enough, Lynesse,” Jay spoke sharply, shooting a look Daeron’s way.

It was a rare thing to hear Jay speak so to Lynesse. Dany was less shocked than Gael and Talla appeared, for it was their illusions of romance shattered. While Lynesse flushed in both embarrassment and anger, Daeron urged the ladies on ahead of them. He and Jay hung back, speaking in whispers as her friends did their best to pretend nothing had happened. Yet curiosity got the better of her.

“Why would Rhaegar use Jay’s guards?” She asked Lynesse quietly. “We have a whole city full of men.”

“I shouldn’t say a word, lest I be chided again,” Lynesse fumed.

A heavy breath later, and the lady was whispering in her ear, “Something about not being able to trust the guards here. Bought out, I heard Baelor say. More than I was supposed to hear I think.”

That only served to confuse her more. Yet any further questions were forgotten at the commotion that arose nearby. High-pitched sounds of laughter and deep growls came from behind some cedar trees. What she found there made Dany stop mid-step.

Two direwolves were chasing about a pair of youths. Shireen Baratheon and Edric Storm ran about, the young lady clutching her skirts and the squire waving a stick, both laughing loudly as Ghost and Grey Wind nipped at their heels. Lynesse gasped in fear, yet Dany knew neither Shireen nor Edric were in danger. Not with the wolves’ masters so near. Robb Stark was sharing the shade of a cedar with Ysilla Royce, his smile as bright as the lady’s blushing cheeks. Seeing them together was nothing new, since Ser Robar introduced his sister to the northern heir, Robb often found reason to share a kind word or jest with the lady.

What did surprise her was catching sight of her betrothed. Despite being dressed in the black and gold of his house, Jon looked a completely different person. Gone was the solemnness and half-smiles she had come to expect, for he was actually laughing as his kin played with the wolves.

“He’s comely when he’s happy,” Gael whispered and Talla made a sound of agreement.

“Here I was worried Dany was getting a second Stannis. This may sound strange but seeing your betrothed act so, it reminds me of the king. Now and again, the clouds part and the sun shines through.”

Dany thought that comparison oddly fitting. Sadly, the clouds returned soon after. Their arrival was soon noticed by Shireen, who uttered a startled cry at her discovery. When the young lady stopped abruptly to curtsy, Edric bowled right into her, Grey Wind following behind. The three went sprawling onto the ground.

“Hey!” Jon gave a yell, rushing over to the fallen children. Though Grey Wind rose without a care, Edric and Shireen moved far slower. “Are you two alright?”

“I think so,” Edric rubbed a skinned elbow. “Gods, Grey Wind. That hurt.”

“Don’t blame him. It wasn’t Grey’s fault,” Shireen mumbled, keeping her gaze low and curtsying once more as Dany and the others approached. “I was minding my courtesies.”

They followed the girl’s gaze and Jon stiffened to see her, dropping in an abrupt bow and dragging Edric with him.

“There’s no need,” she insisted, looking to the children. “Are you quite sure you’re not hurt? That was a terrible tumble.”

“We’re fine,” Edric said as Shireen nodded silently, the girl doing her best to hide her greyscale scars. “Well, except for our clothes…”

“Oh no,” Jon ran a hand down his face to see the dirt and grass stains upon Shireen’s skirts. “Your mother is going to kill me.”

“And me,” Edric added and Shireen sighed.

“Then me.”

“Sounds like a right slaughter,” Daeron noted, he and Jaehaerys now walking up to the group.

“It will be if Lady Selyse hears the wolves were involved,” Jon said, pushing at Ghost as the wolf tried to nuzzle against him. “They are not beloved by my aunt.”

“Blame Daeron then,” Jay suggested, smacking their brother’s back. “Say the young lady was startled by his fearsome disposition.”

Daeron shrugged, “My eye scares grown men, none would question it startling a child.”

Her brothers thought this all a jest, yet not young Shireen.

“Your eye’s not scary,” she spoke quietly, only raising her gaze for a moment. “That is… I’m not scared by it. Don’t let people say it’s bad. You’ve only got some scars...”

That a child marred so by greyscale could find the grace to comfort a knight of the Kingsguard drove Dany to approach the sweet girl. She grasped Shireen’s hand, bidding the young lady to look up at her. With a kerchief of her own, she wiped the dirt from Shireen’s cheek.

“Daenerys,” Daeron warned yet she ignored him.

“You’re a very kind young lady to say such nice things about Daeron and protect the repute of a direwolf. I shall keep all I saw secret from your mother, save my praise for you. Now, let my ladies take you to clean up some first. Talla, Gael.”

Neither were pleased to be volunteered for such duties. Dany could guess why from how her friends stared at the hand she’d touched Shireen with. It was the same reason Lynesse had backed away from her, hands wrapped around her middle, protectively. Though all were assured by the Grand Maester that Shireen could not spread the sickness, many still scorned her.

Clearly Jon was not one of them. When Shireen acted unsure of leaving him, Jon shared an embrace with her and whispered words of encouragement before sending her and Edric off with Gael and Talla.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” he said when they’d gone. “Rarely is Shireen treated so well.”

“Giving her use of a washbasin is nothing worthy of thanks.”

“You did more,” Jon gestured to her hand before his cold grey eyes passed over Daeron and Lynesse. “When it comes to my cousin many people confuse ignorance with prudence. She’ll remember that a princess chose kindness instead. As will I.”

Beyond stiff pleasantries, this was the most honest thing Jon had said to her. Were her brothers not so taken aback, she might have named it sweet of him.

“Forgive us,” said Jay. “We did not mean to act untoward-”

“The child seems sweet but that does not change her affliction,” Daeron crossed his arms. “When it comes to my sister, nothing matters more than her well-being. If anything threatens her, we stand ready. Something her betrothed should take to heart.”

Jon’s mood darkened suddenly and she swore Ghost took to glaring at her brother. As impossible as it was, the wolf’s bright red eyes appeared filled with anger.

“I’m no threat to the princess.”

“So you claim,” said Daeron. “That’s for you and your family to prove. To rise from rebel to kin will be a hard climb for the Baratheons. I’m eager to witness such a feat”

“I am glad my cousin is out of hearing,” Jon moved towards Daeron. “He who shares the name of our kin. Rickard Stark. Brandon Stark. Men your father murdered so cruelly half the realm rose against him.”

When Jon stood but a step from the imposing form of Daeron, the lean young man did not so much as blink.

“We have nothing to prove to you. No Baratheon gave you those scars.”

Daeron tensed. “Speaking so is a good way to earn scars, you bold little-”

“Daeron!” Jay shoved at their brother, his face pale and hand shaking. “By the Seven, stop! Don’t you dare threaten him! Not for father’s sake. Not after he-” He choked on his words, eyes shutting tight against something. “You didn’t see it, the fire and the screaming… but I did. So leave this boy be. Gods, just let it stop…”

Everyone stood in shock at that display. Few who dared lay hands on Daeron still lived, and to see Jay act so violently was even more startling. Yet Dany felt that somehow, Jon’s outburst was worse. Whatever hopeful notions she fostered about the betrothal were dashed. Those earlier compliments meant little now that Jon’s true feelings about her family were laid bare.

_He sees us as mad. As murderers of his kin. What love could he ever bear for you…_

_No. Forget the girl. Forget her hopes._

“Easy, Jaehaerys,” Daeron raised his hands, patting Jay on this chest as Lynesse tried to pull him back. “I hear you. Things got out of hand. I’ll say so to the lad-”

“There’s no need,” Jon said brusquely. He was ignoring her entirely now, his face becoming a solemn mask once more. “The wolves have had enough of the godswood today. So if you’d excuse me, I will go and collect my cousin.”

His curt bow and swift departure was made grander by Ghost following after. She watched Jon walk straight to where Robb and Ysilla awaited, both gaping at the display her brothers had made.

“He’ll tell Lord Robert of this,” she said, rounding on the two knights. “Jon will tell his father and where will his rage turn? Right at Rhaegar! What of the peace?”

“You’ll tell him Jaehaerys tried to make peace,” Lynesse urged. “Surely the king will see he did his best-”

Jay shook his head. “I did nothing. I just watched…”

“It’ll be on my head,” Daeron ran a hand through his short hair. “Rhaegar can send me away for a bit like Viserys. It was worth it to put a scare into that boy. The Baratheons need to earn this match.”

“Something you should have said before it was made,” She did not try and hide the anger in her voice. “You both knew, you both helped the betrothal along. Don’t act like what you just did was for my benefit, Daeron. You had that chance already.”

Daeron winced to hear so, his face growing slack as he looked at her like she was a little girl who just scraped her knee.

“Silverbright, I’m sorry-”

“Robb! Robb Stark!”

The cry came from just behind them, and Dany soon spotted the source. Lady Lysa was rushing along the garden path, the plump woman dragging her pale son onward. Far behind her, followed Ser Balon Swann and a number of royal guardsmen.

“Seven fucking save me. Not now,” Daeron groaned as the lady grew near.

“Robb! Help!” Lysa shouted, her red face tinged with worry and eyes almost desperate as she sought out Robb and Jon. She practically flattened a shrubbery in her haste, its branches scratching at her son.

“Ow! Mother” Robert whined loudly, pulling at Lysa’s arm. “Mother, that hurt-”

“Hush, Sweetrobin!”

“Aunt Lysa?” Robb ran forth to her, Jon and the direwolves following after.

Soon the lady and the young lords came together, the older woman awkwardly pawing at Robb and looking fearfully back at the royal guard coming her way.

“They mean me harm! Please! Keep them from Sweetrobin!”

That was enough to bring Jon and Robb to push the lady and lordling behind them when Ser Balon and his men drew near. Though they weren’t armed, the presence of the direwolves made the royal guards wary.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Robb demanded. “This is the Hand’s wife you harass! My aunt and cousin!”

“We mean no harm to either,” Ser Balon replied through his helm. “But the Lady Lysa and her son must come with us.”

“Not until Lord Arryn is summoned,” Jon said defiantly. He then snatched up a pair of fallen branches and tossed one to Robb “Or my father. He holds House Arryn in high regard. The Arryns protected him once.” He raised up the branch like a sword. “I’ll do the same for the Arryn heir.”

Grey Wind began to growl, baring his teeth and Ghost did the same in his silent fashion. Jon and Robb wielded sticks against swords, the pair outnumbered three to one. Were they not facing her own family’s guardsmen, Dany might have marked both quite heroic.

Yet when Daeron began to stride their way, she feared for their lives.

“Stay there!” Robb snapped, pushing Lysa and Robert further back to the trees as the wolves advanced.

“Calm the beasts,” her brother demanded before holding out his hand. “Balon, there’s a warrant I assume.”

A moment later, a roll of parchment was handed from one Kingsguard to another. Daeron took it in one hand as he drew his sword with the other. He then tossed the blade at Jon’s feet.

“There, now it won’t be a total slaughter if you two don’t hear me out,” Daeron threw the parchment at Robb’s. “Now tell me you know how to read.”

“I do.” Robb said, yet Lysa pulled on him again.

“Don’t!” The lady pleaded. “It’s a trick. Please, get us away.”

“Read it, Stark,” Jaehaerys urged, walking by her. “Read it and know why Lord Arryn will not be coming.”

Jon and Robb looked to each other then. With a nod, Jon grabbed up Daeron’s sword and Robb snatched the parchment. Soon enough, Jon held out the blade in threat while Robb took to reading.

As the Stark heir did so, his face began to fall.

“Robb?” Jon asked and Robb shook his head.

“By the gods… that’s his seal…”

“It’s a legitimate charge,” Daeron said, taking another step forward. “No harm will come to her. Or the boy. I promise.”

Robb jerked at that, “I know what your father did to my family once before.”

“We’re not our father,” Jay put a hand to his heart. “Else we would not be having this talk.”

The northern heir hesitated a moment or two longer, his eyes moving from the guards’ weapons to her brothers, then to Lysa again. When he handed the parchment over to Jon, her betrothed reacted in a similarly shocked way. The cousins shared a long look, full of silent meaning she could not grasp.

“We go with her,” Robb said after a time. “If you must take her, we go with her.”

“To see to her safety,” Jon added. “And the boy goes to my father. We’ll hand him to Princess Daenerys in the meanwhile. Her and no other.”

“No!” Lysa screamed. “No, please! It’s lies! You must fight-”

“We accept your terms,” Daeron waved Dany over, waiting until she was ready for him and Jay to go forth.

Though agitated, the direwolves let her pass by after their masters eased them off. When she went for Sweetrobin, Lysa tried to stop her, her fingernails ready like claws, yet this time it was Robb and Jon who stopped her fighting.

Soon after Daeron and Jay had her in hand, neither looking pleased to manhandle the lady so.

“Lady Lysa Arryn,” said Daeron. “By the command of the king, and by the will of the Hand, Lord Jon Arryn, you are arrested.”

“On the charge of adultery and treason.”


	5. Protectors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reckless acts. Painful admissions. Finding the way.

**JAIME  
** _The White Sword Tower_

He was a Kingsguard, not a bloody gaoler. Nor was this home of the Kingsguard a dungeon.

These simple truths rankled Jaime as he stared down at the tray in his hands. While the torchlight of the room set his well-polished armor and the pommel of his golden sword to gleaming, it also laid bare the meager serving of grey slop and black bread he carried. As insulting as it was for any knight to deliver a meal, that it was such a poor one somehow made it worse.

Nevertheless, he went forth to do his duty, striding across the rounder circular room that made up the first floor of the tower.

His shadow flickered across the whitewashed walls and matching woolen tapestries of the Round Room. At the center of the room was a large weirwood table carved in the shape of a shield, and with its seven chairs sitting empty the only sounds to be heard were his own footfalls. Much of the tower was similarly deserted, his sworn brothers off actually performing their duties. He then climbed by the second floor where the small sleeping chambers of Ser Robar, Ser Balon and the absent Ser Osric Waters could be found.

The third floor was his destination, which was where he and Daeron kept their rooms, as well as Ser Arys Oakheart. Though the Oakheart knight was not using them now. That was plain from the bar thrown across his door.

_I do hope Arys is enjoying himself in the Free Cities. He should take a break from acting nursemaid to Visenya and bed some woman._

_The memory of such might comfort him when he learns who’s been using his bed in the meanwhile._

With a wry chuckle, Jaime fished out the ring of keys Ser Barristan had given him. Only the Kingsguard were permitted access to their guest, which felt less an honor than a burden in truth.

Once the chains were unlocked and the bar lifted, Jaime was free to open the door and scowl at the sight within. Standing in the shadows near the small room’s only window stood a short excuse for a man dressed in a stained linen shirt. A prisoner who ignored Jaime’s arrival, too focused on staring out the tiny opening at the darkened bay below.

“Baelish,” he growled. “The hounds and dungeon dwellers have already been fed. Now it’s your turn.”

“Ah, the chivalry of knights,” Littlefinger sighed to half turn his way. The man’s beard had lost its point and his unshaven face showed patches of wispy growth. His grey-green eyes narrowing on the tray Jaime held.

“Forgive me for asking, but would you mind tasting that first?” Baelish asked. “I fear some in this castle mean me harm. A cook would think nothing of taking a little coin to add a dash of poison to my meal.”

He dropped the tray unceremoniously and kicked it across the floor at the wretch.

“I wouldn’t complain, poison might improve the taste,” answered Jaime. “You’re a dead man, Littlefinger. What difference does it make if the end comes today rather than tomorrow? Or the day after?”

“Quite a bit actually,” said Baelish. “You see, I’ve yet to have my trial. It’ll be my chance to set some things straight and I’m quite eager to speak my piece. Though I doubt many others share my enthusiasm.”

Baelish stepped out of the shadows to display the large bruise upon his cheek, which had come courtesy of Ser Robar’s fist. Kingsguard knights were meant to leave old loyalties behind when they donned their white-cloaks, yet the Royce warrior clearly remembered that it was Jon Arryn who helped him join the order in the first place.

At the time he had laughed, thinking how hilarious it was men could be coming to blows over the intolerable Lysa Tully. Barristan the Bold was not so amused and had lectured Ser Robar sternly on the matter.

“King Rhaegar entrusted Baelish to our care,” the old knight had declared to the other four at the shield table. “Yes, this is quite unusual, but we have orders. Many wish Baelish dead but he must stand trial first. There’s hope the secrets Baelish harbors can be brought to the light of day and the king wants no chance of his escape. I will not lie to you, Prince Oberyn fears Baelish has corrupted many here in the castle. From servants to guardsmen… perhaps worse still. So Rhaegar puts his faith in us, for he knows us to be loyal and true.”

Jaime had ignored the harsh looks Barristan and Balon Swann sent his way. They thought as Shaena and Egg did, all believing him unworthy of his cloak.

That his sworn brothers had time to think poorly of him was quite touching. With most of court and the city itself enraptured by the unfolding scandal, it had been days since someone muttered _‘Kingslayer’_ under their breath at him.  

All any could speak of was the trial of Lysa Tully and all the ugliness that sprang from it. Whatever he thought of the Red Viper, the man had turned the trial into a spectacle worthy of the histories.

After the king, Jon Arryn was the second most powerful man at court. That his wife was discovered to be fucking another man behind his back should have been shocking enough. Yet the more layers Oberyn and Shaena peeled away from the lady and Littlefinger’s dealings proved that the rot went deeper than any could have suspected.

Either through cajoling or threats, the queen and her viper secured sworn testimonies from the Lords Jonos Bracken and Lucius Vypren implicating Littlefinger in their rebellions. Both attested to being supplied key royal strategies during the fighting, details traced back to the household of the Hand himself. Next to fall under scrutiny were the Lords Footly and Gaunt, who Oberyn forced to admit they had been complicit with more of Littlefinger’s schemes. Apparently Baelish had been skimming from the wealth collected by the Arryns and meant for royal coffers for years. Being in debt to Baelish, both claimed they were forced to help the schemer funnel the coin for a myriad of uses, from investments to financing agitators among the nobility. Even the interest he collected from loans to men like Balon’s father, Lord Gulian Swann, was put to such purposes.

All arrangements Littlefinger began long before becoming Jon Arryn’s head steward. To do so, Baelish would have needed access to ledgers and knowledge only Lysa could have smuggled to him.

_So he dipped his wick in that insufferable cow… for years and years._

_Fucking my way to treason with Cersei is one thing, but I’d wish myself deaf, dumb and blind before crawling into bed with Lysa Tully._

Jaime shook his head to think his father had ever entertained Lysa as a match for him. He was turning to leave the chamber when Littlefinger cleared his throat.

“Ser Jaime, please stay a moment,” Baelish said in a kindly way. “I cannot say how happy I am that it was you who delivered this meal. There are some things we need discuss.”

“Save it for the trial,” Jaime shrugged. “Or a septon. Whether it’s the Red Viper or some holy man you unburden yourself to before the end, I care not. To me, it’s all shit in the privy. Speaking of, do enjoy your meal.”

“Why the hurry? Does the king need you by his side?” The man began to grin. “Or is a certain princess you’re meant to spend the night _guarding_?”

The last word was spoken in such a fashion that Jaime’s heart skipped a beat. Worse was how Littlefinger was eyeing him now, like he was some foolish child caught sneaking sweets.

_He’s speaking of Daenerys, trying to get under my skin by naming me a lecher._

_That’s all. That’s all it could be. He can’t know…_

“My duties are none of your concern, so shut your mouth before you earn worse than the tickle Robar gave you.”

Baelish laughed the threat off, “I think how you conduct yourself would be of great concern to some. Your sister’s husband for one. Egg should know how close his wife and her twin truly are. Actually, that’s a tale the entire royal family might be intrigued by. So, please-”

He crossed the small room before Baelish had the chance to gasp. His hands grabbed at Littlefinger’s tunic, wrenching the man up only to slam him bodily against the wall. Baelish grunted when his head cracked off the stone, then wheezed in protest at how Jaime laid a forearm across his throat.

“You’re either very brave or amazingly stupid,” he snarled. “To speak nonsense like that alone in my presence-”

“Perhaps I should wait for the trial?” asked Baelish, whose rasping words were heavy with threat. “Then it will be you being manhandled. Some are likely aching to drag the Kingslayer to the block. Cersei will join you there. You can leave the world the same way you came into it. Together.”

“None would believe you. A liar, a traitor. You’ve no proof-”

“What I have are three young lion cubs,” Littlefinger choked out. “I’ve no doubt Lysa will betray me soon if she hasn’t already. Once she fears for her boy, it’ll only be a matter of time.”

His eyes stared deep into Jaime’s then, “The same will happen with Cersei. Once I plant the seed in Egg and Shaena’s minds, they’ll begin asking questions. What happens when they stop thinking of Joffrey and the others as kin, but as abominations? If the noose starts to tighten and Cersei has to choose to protect you or the children, who would she choose?”

He didn’t dare think on the answer to that. Not that the situation would ever come about. Egg had his faults, but threatening children wasn’t among them.

_Is it beyond the Red Viper or Jon Connington though?_

_Gods know Shaena has always wanted to pay me back after risking her own children… and for Arthur._

“Don’t strain yourself, ser,” Baelish patted his cheek. “I’ve done enough thinking for the both of us. You get me out of this castle, and I never breathe a word of the Kingsguard knight who used his second chance to break his vows not once, but thrice more. Fucking his own sister and spawning a whole trio of golden-haired bastards.”

The gloating and threats were enough to make Jaime see red, but to hear the bastard lay out his failings so plainly filled him with a familiar cold certainty. The same he’d felt years ago when he drew his sword on Aerys.

His sword hand was twitching towards his blade when Littlefinger’s eyes flicked back to the door.

“Jaime.”

He recognized the throaty growl at once. Glancing behind him, Jaime saw the familiar form of Daeron filling the doorway. The prince’s broad shoulders were tense, his good eye open wide as he stared at the scene within. People claimed Daeron was filled with a constant rage as ugly as his dragon’s eye. They were wrong of course, for Jaime knew Daeron well enough to know much of that harshness merely an act.

Unfortunately, the fury etched across Daeron’s face now was no mummery. As Jaime shoved Baelish away, two questions tormented him.

How much had Daeron heard?

And what would he do if his friend had heard too much?

“Daeron,” he tried to sound at ease, “You caught me trying to teach our guest some manners-”

“Enough,” his friend growled again. “Seven Hells, enough. Damn you, Jaime. Get out of there. Now.”

A strained silence followed. Moments which passed slowly, where Jaime watched Daeron as warily as a foe. To his relief, the prince made no move for his sword, instead Daeron stepped aside, holding out his arm to usher on Jaime’s exit. He took Daeron up on that, shooting a sideways look at Baelish as he strode to the door.

“Don’t be a stranger, ser,” Baelish said cheerily before bowing to Daeron. “He really is a charming fellow. Not that I should be surprised. You’re notoriously picky in your choice of companions, my prince. Few seem worthy of your esteem-”

The rest of it was cut off by Daeron’s slamming of the door. He then barred and locked it once more, doing so in grim silence. Jaime was thinking of a more elaborate excuse for all Daeron had seen when the prince pushed away from the door, throwing a shoulder into Jaime and nearly knocking him over. Daeron’s path took him straight to Jaime’s own door, which he kicked open to disappear within.

Following after, he found Daeron pacing about the room, cursing under his breath.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His friend glared at him. “How could you be so stupid? After everything… to do this…”

_Fuck. He knows… I can’t silence him… not like I could Baelish._

“Daeron, it’s not what it looks like,” he lied desperately.

“Shut your mouth. Just shut it, you golden fool.”

Only then did their eyes meet, and there was no missing the betrayal Jaime found in the prince’s good eye. The two friends had squared off many times on minor quarrels, yet never had the issue been one of life or death. Besides his own kin, there was none he felt closer to than Daeron, and he knew the man to be stubborn and loyal to a fault.

Which was why he was so surprised when Daeron blinked first, breaking the stare and seeking the floor.

“You need to pray, Jaime. Pray that you left no mark on Baelish. Hope that the Bold does not get wind of this.”

“What?” he asked and Daeron growled once more.

“Barristan left clear instructions. No harm is to come to Littlefinger. Commands given to him by Rhaegar. What Robar did was bad enough. My brother is under incredible strain and if Barristan goes to him with talk of you beating Baelish…”

All this allowed Jaime to breathe again. Daeron hadn’t heard about him and Cersei. His friend was merely upset at him, thinking Jaime had once more proved himself a poor excuse for a Kingsguard.

“I left no marks,” Jaime said. “It’ll be my word against Baelish’s.”

“Unless I speak against you,” Daeron raised an eyebrow at him.

“But you won’t. Without me on the Kingsguard, you’ll be the only one with a cringe-worthy reputation.”

“And I wouldn’t want to be alone,” the prince sighed. “You have to see it’s not the same for the two of us, Jaime. My infamy was borne of these scars, but it grew through years of fearsome acts. With you, it only took one act. A just one at that, and you are unworthy all the ire it earned.”

“It wasn’t just Aerys,” he corrected. “Check the White Book if you’ve forgotten. Gerold Hightower. Oswell Whent. Arthur Dayne. My brothers before you. Barristan remembers them. Shaena too.”

Daeron stepped to him then, “I was Arthur’s squire, I’ll never forget him and the others. Nor will I ignore who ordered their deaths. Their blood is on my father- no, on the Mad King’s hands, not yours.”

His friend was wrong. Jaime could’ve fought beside Arthur and the rest. Perhaps with his help they might have lived. At the very least, he might’ve died along with them. Yet Daeron did not give the chance to say so, the prince grasping his shoulder and squeezing it in a comforting way.

“I remember watching Ser Arthur knight you after that fight with the Kingswood Brotherhood,” Daeron’s voice growing softer. “He didn’t do so because of your skill with a blade, or how you stood tall against the Smiling Knight. You are my friend but Arthur, he was my ser. Piss on the storytellers, the Sword of the Morning would never lay Dawn on your shoulders as a reward. It was a promise he exacted of you. To become the knight Arthur believed you could. I’ve seen glimpses of that man since and by the Seven, I pray the realm will know him one day. If only so you can keep a promise…”

Daeron was harkening back to his finest days. When they had both been young squires, fighting in the company of heroes. He felt the touch of Dawn on his shoulders once more and the humbling power of Ser Arthur’s noble gaze. Daeron was right, the act had demanded more of Jaime than simply rising to knighthood.

 _A promise was made,_ he admitted to himself, _and I broke it long ago._

_When I lifted Dawn from a better man’s grasp, and closed his cold dead eyes forever._

“Glimpses of a better me, eh?” Jaime scoffed, lifting Daeron’s hand away with a forced smile. “That’s your dragon’s eye playing tricks on you. If you’re done with the lectures, I’m going down to await Balon. Littlefinger will be his watch soon enough and I’ve got rounds to attend.”

He was truthful in that. For when Jaime left Daeron shaking his head, he had every intention of seeing to his rounds. Yet as he descended from the White Sword Tower, Jaime was already working on a plan which would disappoint Daeron’s lofty hopes for him.

He could live with that. Longer than he or Cersei would if Baelish followed through on his threats. The little shit was likely sitting in that room even now, waiting for Jaime to return and rescue him.

Littlefinger wouldn’t be disappointed in one regard. Jaime did intend to come back for him.

Though it was a different kind of release he planned for Petyr Baelish.

**DAENERYS  
** _The Great Hall_

The gallery was packed. Though Dany and her friends were accorded their own place overlooking the throne room, Gael and Talla still had to press closely against her.

They had made room by the rail to spare Shaena’s ladies from being lost in the press of nobility. Desmera sharing some whispered words with Allyria while Ysilla twirled a lock of honey hair as she rolled her eyes at whatever Theon was asking of her.

When he caught Dany looking, he smirked at her. So her gaze moved to across

the vast throne room to the opposing gallery, which boasted many men of note. Men like Lord Arryn’s captain of the guard, Ser Marwyn Belmore, and Garth Tyrell, Lord Seneschal of Highgarden. There was also the elderly Lord Selwyn Tarth and Lord Beric Dondarrion, Allyria’s future husband, who shared a small wave with his betrothed. Near to the lords stood Renly Baratheon, dressed in a handsome doublet, with Edric Storm by his side, which came as a surprise since the youth was usually Jon’s shadow.

To look at the hall below made the galleries feel practically deserted. There, hundreds were packing the vast room from wall to wall.

All come to witness a scandal the likes of which hadn’t been seen at court since before Dany was born.

The crowd’s whispering sounded like the chirping of a great flock of birds, and she found the excitement within it quite morbid. Many were treating the trial as some grand form of entertainment.

Joffrey acted much the same. The tall prince had joined Cersei here in the gallery, and was now making impatient noises as he leaned over the rail.

“I wish they’d get on with it,” her nephew whined. “The woman’s guilty. Everyone knows it. We should’ve seen the headsman at work days ago.”

Gael gasped at that.

“They wouldn’t,” she whispered in Dany’s ear. “To execute a woman, a lady. The king is not such a fiend.”

Talla sighed, “She betrayed the king as much as her husband. Harsh crimes deserve harsh sentences. My father says so.”

_That certainly doesn’t bode well for Lady Arryn._

She looked then to the trio of judges seated at the foot of the Iron Throne. While the throne itself was empty, these three men had presided over every moment of the trial.

At the very right sat Talla’s father, Lord Randyll Tarly. A lean and balding man with a severe manner, the lord was said to be the most capable and iron-willed High Reeve the city had ever had.

Dany had heard such from the lord’s fellow judge and direct superior here in the capital, Lord Jon Connington. The lord of Griffin’s Roost sat in the middle seat, clad in a red-and-white tunic embroidered with twin griffins combatant. One of Rhaegar’s most loyal friends, Lord Connington had served as her brother’s Master of Laws for years now.

There was no doubt both lords had earned their roles as judges. The same could not be said for the third.

When Stannis Baratheon was chosen to act as the final judge, Dany had not believed her ears. Yet there the tall and broad-shouldered man sat, his stern gaze moving over the crowd. She had already thought Lysa’s judges an unforgiving lot before Stannis was added to their number. Even among the Stormlords, few spoke kindly of Lord Robert’s brother and she was left grasping at why Rhaegar had chosen him.

“Stannis is Rhaegar’s way of appearing fair,” Egg had explained to her. “The Tullys and the Starks will be hard-pressed to paint this trial in a poor light with a party to their cabal among the judges.”

Egg was playing a role in the trial as well. He sat in a grand chair apart from the judges, foregoing his usual bright finery for somber black silks. In his hands, Egg held the king’s seal, having been chosen by Rhaegar to represent their family in these proceedings.

It was a necessary task since Rhaegar had scorned the entire trial. Shaena had kept her distance as well, appearing only to give her own testimony. Thus far, the king and queen seemed content to leave the trial to those they trusted.

Prince Oberyn was one of them, the Master of Whispers having acted as the crown’s chief accuser. The Red Viper paced about the open space between the judges and crowd, which Ser Jaime and Daeron helped keep back. A strange duty for the Kingsguard to undertake.

 _All the white-cloaks have been given menial tasks of late,_ she thought, _punishment for the fiasco in the White Sword Tower._

_Rhaegar was so furious… Lady Lysa was never meant to face these charges alone._

“He’s not here,” said Gael, biting her lip. “Today of all days, I thought Lord Arryn would want to come.”

“The Hand’s not doing well,” Ysilla spoke up. “He hasn’t left his chambers since his testimony and turns all but a few away. Lord Robert, the High Septon… others he trusts.”

Dany had an inkling at who one of those trusted few might be. Likely the same lordling Ysilla was seen spending so much time with of late.

“Of course he hides away,” Cersei broke in, her voice loud and full of superiority. “A great lord of his stature, shamed by his wife and given horns by a coin counter. House Arryn boasts of being as High As Honor but its lady shall soon suffer the depths of dishonor.”

“You need not sound so smug about it,” Dany replied. “Nor act so sure of the verdict. Lysa’s innocence is for the judges to decide, not for us to gossip about.”

While her goodsister bristled to be challenged so, Joffrey guffawed.

“Innocence? After all we’ve heard?” His question earned chuckles from a few others. “Don’t be simple. My father says she’s as guilty as Littlefinger is d-”

Theon’s loud laughter cut him off.

“Daenerys is anything but simple. She bests you at sums often enough to bear that out,” Theon then winked at her. “Have no fear, Dany. There’s none more willing to speak to your qualities. Beautiful, graceful, a touch naive, you’re everything a princess should be.”

“I’m not so naive as some,” she shot back. “And I can speak for myself, Theon. A quality I’m quite proud of.”

Theon surprised her by actually appearing hurt by the retort. He had earned it of course. Joffrey’s foolishness was one thing, but she couldn’t abide Theon talking down to her, nor acting so brashly. Of late his advances had become so blatant Dany wondered how she ever could have mistaken them as friendly.

Before anymore could be said, Ser Alliser Thorne’s voice rose up over the din. Despite being over fifty years, the Red Keep’s Captain of the Guards could shout twice as loud as men half his age.

“Silence!” the slim and sinewy knight shouted. “Silence in the king’s name! The trial shall now recommence! Guards! Clear a path so the accused may come forth!”

Men in Targaryen tunics moved through the press, forcing people here and there until enough had moved for Ser Alliser’s purposes. Only then did he signal for the hall doors to open.

A hush fell over all as the large wooden doors at the end of hall were pushed inward. First to step through was Jay in a suit of armor, his breastplate plate bearing four dragons wrought in red enamel, circling around a large ruby at its center. Her towering brother led a company of Dragonstone guardsmen, behind them came the hunched form of Septon Meribald, and finally the accused herself.

Only then the whispers began anew.

Had Dany not known better, Lady Lysa might strike her as a penitent woman rather than an accused traitor and adulterer. The lady wore a gown of muted greys and lacked any decoration whatsoever. Her pallor was poor, and dark circles could be seen under her red-rimmed eyes. All of this was a far cry from the defiant lady who had railed against every charge laid against her days ago, when Lysa had decried everyone from Dany’s family to her own.

Despite that, some of the lady’s kin still stood by her.

Walking beside Lysa came her uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, a lean and weathered knight whose tunic bore the black fish of his moniker. He had journeyed all the way from the Vale for the trial, yet Lysa had found support closer still. To her other side came Robb Stark, his chin held high and his bearing that of an older man. She wondered how many noticed the honey colored lock of hair pinned to his doublet. Ysilla certainly noticed, for a glance to her showed the lady blushing fiercely.

Dany wondered then if she should have done the same for Jon, for her betrothed stood out prominently among Lysa’s small escort. He was the only one without blood ties to the lady, and it was no secret Lord Robert had long made up his mind regarding her guilt. She knew him little enough, yet his display of loyalty towards his cousin and noble treatment of Lysa challenged all she’d been told of House Baratheon.

Others felt differently.

“Well there’s a shocking sight,” Theon mocked. “A Baratheon consorting with a woman of loose morals. How many bastards does Lord Robert boast again?”

“Somewhat less than House Greyjoy can failed rebellions,” Talla touched at Dany’s arm as all around erupted hushed laughter. Theon was glaring at her friend hotly when she sought to silence him altogether.

“Men who stand by women in need deserve better than scorn from those who chase after their skirts. Think hard on where you and Jon Baratheon end up on that scale, Theon.”

All the ladies were tittering when Dany realized Theon was not the only one who disdained Jon’s escort of Lysa. From the severe glare Stannis gave his nephew, she could easily hazard the lord’s feelings on the matter.

“Lady Lysa Arryn, nee Tully,” said Lord Connington in deep even tones. “You stand accused of betraying the crown, your husband, the Hand, and endangering the harmony of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“We have heard the evidence,” continued Lord Randyll. “That you did knowingly, and wantonly, share matters of great import to our king with Petyr Baelish. Betrayals which forewarned rebels and aided revolt against the throne.”

“Your husband has spoken to this,” Lord Stannis looked down his nose at Lysa. “Lord Arryn himself attested to us that the only way Baelish could have gained the ledgers and tools to conduct his treason would be through you.”

“Petyr,” Lysa perked up to look about. “Is he here? Please, might I see-”

“Have you any defense against these accusations?” Lord Connington interrupted gruffly. “If you do, speak to them now. We shall hear them.”

Lord Tarly nodded, “Or any admissions you are willing to make.”

At that, Septon Meribald moved closer to Lysa and whispered something in her ear. The lady quaked during and shook her head against his words. Then Ser Brynden came forth, and after several long moments, the lady’s shoulders fell and she sobbed loudly. When she raised her head, her gaze went to the glass windows of the hall, staring into their brightness with a sadness that needled at Dany’s sympathy.

“I would…” Lysa choked on her words. “If the lords would hear me, I beg them to open their hearts as well as their ears to my words. So that I might confess and seek their mercy.”

A ripple of shock went through the crowd, even those among the gallery. To confess meant Lysa was guilty of some of the charges. It took several moments for Ser Alliser to restore quiet, and by then even Dany leaned forth on the balcony in anticipation of the lady’s admission.

“You confess your guilt?” Lord Connington asked.

“I do confess to loving a man not my husband,” Lysa said. “Whom I loved before my vows, and whom I love to this day.”

“You speak of Petyr Baelish,” Stannis confirmed and Lysa nodded.

“Petyr, yes. I beg mercy for him too. He means well. He always has. For so long he’s worked to be worthy of me but I told him-”

Septon Meribald cleared his throat then, raising an eyebrow and gesturing for Lysa to go on.

“Forgive me, my lords,” Lysa continued. “Know that while I spoke to Petyr of what I learned as a Hand’s wife, never did I mean to do my husband harm. Nor treason to my king.”

“What you meant to do is of little concern,” Stannis ground his teeth. “That you did betray both Lord Arryn and the Iron Throne is plain.”

Lord Tarly grunted, “Your duty as a wife is no less sacred than your role as subject to the crown. Lord Arryn holding such a high office makes your actions treasonous. You do know what punishment treason brings?”

 _The executioner’s blade,_ she thought, _but if mercy is withheld then it could mean a slow, painful end by torture._

_At least men can beg to join the Night’s Watch. We women are always given less choice._

Septon Meribald stepped forward, “Lady Arryn puts her faith in the forgiveness of the Seven. That they might guide you lords to seeing all this as a woman’s lapse in judgement, not the acts of traitor.”

“Thank you, septon. We so hear you,” Lord Jon shot a knowing look to the septon before turning his gaze back to Lysa. “And you, Lady Lysa. In truth, we three have discussed at length what it would mean if you should admit to your faults. That and other considerations.”

He then looked to both Lord Tarly and Stannis, each nodding after a moment’s consideration.

“There is one final truth we would have from you. Regarding your son, Robert Arryn.”

“My Sweetrobin,” Lysa clutched at her chest and sobbed again. The judges did not so much as flinch.

“Is your child the trueborn heir of Lord Arryn?” Lord Tarly asked

“Or is he the bastard get of Petyr Baelish?”

Lysa hesitated, swallowing and looking all about the hall once more.

“Where is Petyr? I was promised I could speak with him before.”

“Later, niece,” Ser Brynden spoke in a smoky voice. “Go on.”

“Why? It’s been so long already. I only wish a few words. Please, I’ve agreed to everything else. Just let me speak to Petyr-”

“He’s dead!” Joffrey shouted with a hand cupped around his mouth. “Dead and cold!”

While Dany was aghast at Joffrey’s behavior, it also bothered her how Lysa appeared ignorant to this bit of knowledge. Littlefinger had been dead for days now, had no one told her?

“What did he say?” Lysa demanded, looking from the judges to Egg. “Petyr’s not dead! He can’t be!”

“My lady…” Egg struggled to find the words. “I must tell you that Little- that is Petyr Baelish, he died some days ago. Hung by his own hand.”

“Whilst in the care of the Kingsguard,” Stannis added with an accusatory look towards Daeron and Jaime.

Neither so much as blinked, for Stannis’s shaming of them could not compare to the rage of a king. Nor that of Ser Barristan, who took it as a personal failure that Petyr Baelish was able to hang himself right under the noses of the Kingsguard. A cowardly act that spared Baelish from any of the public shaming Lysa endured.

Yet the lady clearly did not take it that way. Lysa let loose a gut-wrenching scream as she stumbled about in shock. When the Blackfish tried to steady her, she slapped him hard across the face.

“Don’t touch me!” Lysa grabbed at her middle as she wept. “You! You’re as bad as them. Father and Cat! None of you cared what happened to me after giving me to an old, wrinkled fiend! None of you had to feel his gnarled hands upon your body! Petyr cared! He tried to save me-”

“My lady, get a hold of yourself,” Lord Tarly commanded only for Lysa to wheel about and point a finger up at him.

“No! You be quiet! They want me to speak to this! All their threats! I’ll not let another child be stolen from me! Not again! I’m not ashamed to say this! My Sweetrobin, he was born of love. And the only man I’ve ever loved was Petyr. Petyr! Say his name! He would never have left me! Murderers!”

“Enough!” Lord Connington bellowed. Yet it was more than Lysa making a commotion. The whole hall was in an uproar that went on until every guard with a spear managed to pound them into the ground loud enough to drown out the rest. During this whole time the three judges talked amongst themselves. Even at her distance, Dany saw it to be a furious debate between Stannis and the other two.

When order was restored, and Lysa resolved to quit weeping, the judges began anew.

“Lysa Arryn nee Tully,” Lord Connington said. “We have decided to attribute that outburst to a woman’s weakness. Now, seeing as you admitted your guilt and are clearly little more than a pawn in another’s ploy, we hereby recommend that you be spared execution.”

“Instead you shall be stripped of your titles and incomes,” Lord Tarly continued. “Since they come from your husband, whom you have betrayed. With such poverty, perhaps you might be humbled before the Seven.”

“Which will happen in time,” Stannis growled. “You are hereby committed to the order of the Silent Sisters, where you shall serve for the rest of your days and atone for your crimes.”

Lysa met the verdict with mournful sobbing. The sounds of which were drowned out by the shocked outrage of the assembled nobility. Apparently, much of the court thought Lysa deserved worse than the judges decreed. Egg was not among them, for he hurried applied Rhaegar’s seal to the verdict before ordering Jon and Robb to lead Lysa away.

Though she had little chance of catching them, Dany found Egg soon enough by sneaking down a back passage he was fond of. Her brother cried out to face her on the circular stair, falling back against the wall in heavy breaths.

“Gods, Dany,” Egg wheezed. “Must you skulk about, surprising people? Things have been a might bit tense at court of late…”

“You’re one to talk of surprises,” she said, reaching out to tap the seal in his grasp. “I saw, Egg. You weren’t rattled at all by the verdict. Like you knew what it would be.”

Egg gazed at her in an odd way then, as if trying to take her measure. That he took to glancing about in search of any others on the stairs instead of denying her charge convinced her of its truthfulness.

“If you knew what the ruling would be, why allow it? Lord Arryn will surely be wroth. He just lost his heir and his wife and all Lysa suffers is a lifetime of holding her tongue?”

“I doubt the silent sisters would appreciate that summation of their holy vows,” Egg chided before pulling her close. “Now take after their example and be silent. Speak of this to none outside our kin, but all that has happened today is precisely the outcome we wanted.”

“How?” Dany blinked in surprise. “It looks like Stannis Baratheon just gave one of the rebel quartet a slap for treason.”

“That wasn’t Stannis’ doing. It was Connington and Tarly who brought that about, by Rhaegar’s will as part of a deal to settle the status of Robert Arryn. Already some of the Vale lords refute the child, and Lord Arryn holds much doubt in the boy himself. Imagine the shame, to realize the son he raised as his own could be another’s? That he groomed a bastard to steal all his family’s lands and titles. For the sake of House Arryn and the Vale itself, we needed that boy declared illegitimate.”

“And then Lysa spoke to it,” Dany said with great unease. “Egg, she also talked of threats.”

“There were many leveled against her, yes,” Egg nodded solemnly. “The worst came from agents of her lord husband. There was some talk of sending young Robert to the Wall if she did not submit. Rhaegar had Septon Meribald take a softer approach, promising mercy and that suitable arrangements would be made for her son. Thus was a falcon turned to Stone, and Lord Arryn given enough peace of mind to retire to the Vale.”

She latched onto the last part. Not just because of the mention of Jon Arryn leaving, but how pleased Egg was to say so. It confirmed another bit of gossip working its way through court.

“So it’s true. Jon Arryn is resigning as Hand,” she said. When Egg nodded, she backed away to slump against the wall. “He’s been Hand since I was a babe. Rhaegar and Shaena rely on him so. To end things in such a way, after all these years… all his faithful service-”

Egg scoffed, “Faithful at times, I’d say. More adequate of late. This was a long time coming. They’ll say the proper things, but our brother and sister likely welcome Arryn’s departure. He’s been frustrating the king and many of us on the council, things might improve now that another can rise in his stead.”

“Like who?” she asked, yet waved off any reply, since the answer was obvious and disgusted her. “You should feel ashamed of yourself. Lord Arryn has not turned in his seal and you seek to creep into his place.”

“Young lady,” Egg snapped his fingers before her face. “It was Jon Arryn who took an office he did not belong in. The man rebelled against the throne and was only raised up to avoid future revolts. Something he failed to deliver on these last few years.”

“That wasn’t his fault.”

“Nor is it mine that the lord is leaving,” her brother said. “I will not apologize for wanting to be Hand. Ambition can drive men to reach the heights of their potential, for the betterment of themselves and the realm at large. There’s no shame in me wanting that.”

“No, no shame,” she said. “Not in those good intentions. Yet perhaps Petyr Baelish had the same in the beginning. He was certainly ambitious. Look at all that wrought.”

Dany thought then of Lysa Tully’s grief in the hall and sickly little Robert Arryn. How hoarse of voice and bent of back Jon Arryn had become. Finally of Baelish, dying alone in the dark.

“A lady has lost everything dear to her. A boy lost his parents, even his name. A lord was broken without losing a battle. And one ambitious man… he doomed himself.”

Egg was gaping at her when she turned to climb the stairs once more. Dany paused, a foot hovering over the step.

“All that began with one step. The first in many. A climb that led to such dark depths.”

With that Dany began her own climb.

Saying a silent prayer for her brother’s as she went.

**JON  
** _The Kingswood_

This was the happiest he’d seen his father in weeks.

Lord Robert was laughing and smiling as their hunting party rode through the Kingswood. There were few things father loved more than a good hunt and today was a fine day for one. The sun shone bright and warm, the freshness of the air a welcome respite from the stink of the city, and the trees and greenery lush and vibrant.

Then there was the company.

Among the party was Lord Beric Dondarrion and his squire, Edric Dayne, who most called Ned. Ser Brynden Tully had his bow at the ready, the Blackfish’s lined and weathered face turning about to search the wood. Ser Andrew Estermont, his father’s cousin, rode beside Jory, who would be taking ship back to Winterfell within days. Father kept each close, swapping war stories and arguing over which of the seven kingdoms boasted the finest women.

A topic which kept Robb and Edric in wide grins as they rode alongside Jon. All got a good laugh at how often the men’s bawdy talk set the young lads to blushing.

All save his uncle, Stannis, who had yet to crack a smile. He rode just slightly apart from the rest, with Ser Davos and their guardsmen, Omer and Jate Blackberry. Jon made sure to keep his distance from Stannis, things still being tense over the trial.

_Father forgave me standing by Lady Lysa, why can’t Stannis?_

_Even Lord Arryn is trying to put the whole thing behind them._

“I think they’ve got a scent!” Robb shouted, pointing his spear to where Ghost and Grey Wind had paused ahead; each with their heads raised and ears perked up.

“What did I say? Better than hounds, these beasts,” Lord Robert declared with a smile Jon’s way. “Just as useful, but they don’t make a bloody racket. Hold up here!”

They all brought their mounts down from the gallop, gathering near the wolves and a copse of ash trees. His spear was made of such wood, as was the one he’d gifted Edric from his own purse.

“I hope it’s a boar,” his brother lifted the weapon in excitement. “Father says you’re not a man till you’ve taken a boar.”

“Or bedded a whore,” Lord Robert added with a laugh. “Jory! You best have sought out those brothels I told you of. I want you taking back tales to turn Ned’s face red!”

“That’s quite the gauntlet to throw down,” the Blackfish mused. “As cold as Stark can be, I only saw him redden once. When we delivered Cat to him during the bedding.”

Jory nodded, “I doubt he’ll do so for any tales I can speak to. Nor with whom I’ll be bringing back to Winterfell with me.”

The northern captain looked to Robb then, for it was his doing that the newly illegitimate Robert Stone would find refuge in the North. A kindness since no one else wanted the sickly boy.

“The boy’s gone from an heir to a leper,” he’d overheard Renly saying to Garth Tyrell after the trial. “Storm’s End isn’t an option, Robert refuses to add another bastard to the collection he’s gathered there. Even Lysa’s own father scorns the boy. Hoster apparently doesn’t think the Tully boast of ‘Family, Duty, Honor,’ applies to bastards.”

Robb proved himself a better sort than his grandfather. It was he who sent a raven to Winterfell on King Rhaegar’s behalf, begging sanctuary for Robert Stone. Whether for the sake of Lady Catelyn or Lord Arryn or even the boy himself, Uncle Ned had agreed and the sickly lad would be joining Jory on the return north.

With all the ugliness at court, Jon sometimes felt like joining them.

_Storm’s End will be better still. I’ve missed Mya and Gendry too much._

_Robb can’t wait to tell them how I insulted half the royal family in front of my betrothed…_

“Honorable man,” Lord Robert said with a nod. “That’s Ned. A better man than me to take in a bastard so ill-omened. Rhaegar’s search for a new Hand should end with Ned. Show me someone more worthy than the brother I chose, I ask you.”

“What of the brother standing here?” Stannis asked gruffly. “You left your heir with Lord Stark for years, and he came with a head full teachings that saw him standing by at a traitor’s side. A fool’s errand cloaked in honor. I might have had justice for your precious Jon Arryn if not for that foolishness-”

“Careful,” warned the Blackfish. “If her death was ever entertained, I would have stood as Lysa’s champion. Whatever her faults, she’s still blood.”

“It’s your right to stand by your family. My nephew had no reason to do the same.”

“Jon didn’t stand with my aunt, he stood with me,” Robb shot back. “And Lord Arryn gave his blessing that we do so. He knows what it’s like to stand up for someone in a dire hour.”

“You speak of Aerys? Sheltering two innocent lordlings is a far worthier deed than backing a half-mad adulteress. An act that did little more than bolster your own pride.” 

“Oh shut it,” Lord Robert growled. “The way you talk, the only person who ever does the right thing is you. See if I ever let you play judge again.”

“Father, that’s not fair,” Jon offered to keep the peace. “I did my duty. Uncle Stannis did his. Had he not performed it so well, some might doubt House Baratheon’s commitment to justice.”

“Well said,” Lord Beric nodded, yet neither his father nor uncle seemed pleased by his meddling.

Or perhaps it was the blowing of trumpets that soured their moods. The sound came from where Grey Wind and Ghost now faced, and soon after another party emerged from the woods. A splendid one, which boasted both noblewomen and royalty.

He spotted the Dragonseye and Ser Balon of the Kingsguard first, yet from Prince Daeron’s forever harsh expression there was no telling if the knight still bore him ill will. The two white-cloaked warriors headed up the score of guardsmen surrounding Queen Shaena and Princess Daenerys, who wore matching riding gowns of dark cherry chased with vermillion. Though Robb beamed at the sight of Ysilla Royce among their companions, Jon avoided looking at Daenerys or her ladies.

Instead he focused on the rest of their party. He saw Ser Baelor Hightower and Lady Elia as well as the ladies Talla Tarly and Deserma Redwyne. Prince Aegon and his son Joffrey rode ahead of them, the younger prince carrying a crossbow. Yet it was massive man in the snarling hound’s helm that caught his eye. The Hound was Joffrey’s protector and a beastly one at that. Not even the ugliness of the Dragonseye’s scars could match the right side of Sandor Clegane’s face, which was burnt to a gruesome ruin.

Jon was so focused on the two men he almost missed his uncle Renly emerging from the heart of the party.

“Robert! There you are,” Renly laughed to hail them. “I thought perhaps to find you out here. A lovely day for a pleasure ride, is it not?”

“So it seems,” Lord Robert said with a frown. “Now I see what kept you from joining our hunt.”

“Can you blame me? No offense to you good men, but the beasts of the forest cannot compare to these delights of the realm.”

“How flattering. I might blush,” Prince Aegon said with feigned timidity. While Renly led others in laughing, it was Robb who first bowed to Queen Shaena and Daenerys.

“A good day to you ladies,” Robb said. “Lord Robert might begrudge me, but I’m tempted to throw aside my spear and join your royal company.”

“Turncloak,” the Blackfish chuckled, treating it as a jest. Yet Jon wouldn’t be surprised if Robb actually did it. Not with the small glances passing between his cousin and Ysilla. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as Queen Shaena regarded both with a raised eyebrow.

“Such a bold statement. With the passion I see in the young lord’s eyes, I wouldn’t dream of tearing him away from the hunt. A young man does need his adventures and you’ve certainly earned some leisure after the recent unpleasantness.”

“What you three did was quite noble,” Daenerys said, her eyes lingering on Robb and the Blackfish before finally landing on him.

“If there was any bright spot to the trial, it was seeing someone do well by that poor woman. To bear such burdens won you great esteem among we ladies.”

Stannis grunted at that so Jon spoke first, “It was no burden, truly. We simply kept the lady company, made sure she had a proper guard-”

“A proper guard to slap around,” Joffrey muttered a tad too loudly. While both the queen and Prince Aegon hissed admonishments, the Blackfish urged his horse forward.

“A weak jest from a weak child,” the older knight growled. “Lysa’s tap was worth it to keep her safe, protected by men with no other concerns but her safety. Else wise she might have ended up like Petyr.”

Ser Brynden’s accusatory tone was lost on neither Jon, nor the Kingsguard knights. While Ser Balon’s expression darkened some, the Dragonseye surprised Jon by not so much as batting an eye. Rather it was Prince Aegon who met the challenge.

“A tragic turn that should never have come about. Yet we must not forget, it was Baelish who ended his own life.”

“Did he now?”

The prince’s eyes widened, “I don’t take your meaning, ser.”

“You do. So does he,” the Blackfish jerked his head towards the Dragonseye; the two men now staring each other down.

“Perhaps I would if you spoke to it plainly,” Prince Daeron touched at his sword. “Of course, then you’d need protection, for we’d have more than words, old man.”

“By the Seven this gets tiring,” Queen Shaena exclaimed. “Not another word, Daeron. Nor from you, my good knight of Riverrun. Littlefinger may be dead and buried but you two prove his legacy of foul gossip and discord to be alive and well.”

“Her Grace is wise,” Renly spoke gravely. “We must move on to better things. Let us show Lord Arryn that the court and realm itself will not only endure his retirement, but flourish still.”

His uncle then gestured to both Prince Aegon and Lord Robert, “My prince, shall we join my brother’s hunt? Your son can shoot at something better than rabbits and we can unite in a just cause. Putting some fresh game on our plates.”

At first, Renly’s charm was lost on father and the prince, neither much enthused by the idea. Yet with Joffrey acting eager enough and Queen Shaena giving her blessing, Aegon eventually accepted with a smile. One Jon thought somewhat forced. He hoped Daenerys saw his own to be genuine as she and the rest of the queen’s party rode off. The princess however seemed more concerned with Joffrey, for she watched him with worry as he boasted of the accuracy of his crossbow.

“We never use crossbows on our hunts,” Edric said with a scratch to his head. “They’ve not got the range of bows and take too long to reload.”

“Then your hunts must be rather boring. Besides, I always hit what I’m aiming at.”

“Since when?” Jon asked, quite sick of Joffrey’s vanity. “I’ve seen you at practice in the yard, the target was the only thing you didn’t hit.”

Robb broke into a wide grin and Edric snorted in laughter, and it was his brother the furious prince focused on.

“What are you laughing at, bastard?”

“A vicious toad of a prince,” Robb shot back as Jon’s hand curled into a fist. They turned their backs to Joffrey after that, leading Edric away. The hunt began once more, though distinct groups had now formed; his father and uncles in one, the two royals and the Hound another, and the rest about the Blackfish and Lord Beric. While Robb sought that group, he and Edric were keen to see why Lord Robert was arguing so with his brothers.

“My brother, acting a kiss arse," father fumed at Renly. “Have you no pride?”

Stannis grunted, “More ambition I think.”

“What about you, Jon?” Renly asked in a mocking tone. “Any slights you wish to add? Or would you rather hear all I’ve learned on matters of grave importance?”

“I’d listen, uncle.”

“Another thing that sets you apart from Robert. Brother, you’ve entrusted me to sit on the small council, forgive me for building inroads before I actually take my seat.”

“Gods, quit wagging your tongue,” father snapped. “If there’s something worth me hearing, out with it.”

“Well, I never thought to say this, but Stannis was right. We’re not likely to see another ally made Hand. Of all the names I’ve heard suggested, not a one sided with us in the rebellion.”

“Bloody hells,” Lord Robert cursed. “If Tywin Lannister gets that chain again-”

“I’d be surprised if he did,” Renly continued. “The queen’s backing the Red Viper or Baelor Hightower. I’ve heard Mathis Rowan spoken of but Tywin Lannister is barely mentioned save by his daughter.”

“That should be plenty,” Stannis said as the wolves led them through a thicker part of the wood. “For with Cersei Lannister goes Prince Aegon. That woman only lets him out from beneath her skirts to do her father’s bidding.”

“Surprisingly, Egg’s crawled free so he can try and become Hand himself. A calculated move on his part, I think. He’s popular enough and wagers Tywin would welcome his goodson rising so high. That’s the best the Lannisters can hope for right now, their name’s been tainted by this Littlefinger debacle too.”

“How?” Jon asked. “Princess Cersei was going to speak against Baelish-”

“Because her brother might have done worse,” Renly’s voice became grave. “Balon Swann may have found the body, but the Kingslayer was the one on watch when Littlefinger died. All this is being kept quiet. With Lord Swann among those owing a debt to Baelish and how muddled Cersei’s dealings with Littlefinger were, there’s as much suspicion on those two as there was on Ser Robar.”

“Jon Arryn wouldn’t ask Robar to kill that bastard,” Lord Robert said without much conviction. “Not that I’d blame him if he had.”

“But Ser Robar wouldn’t do it,” Edric sounded confused. “He’s a Kingsguard. A knight. They all are. They obey the king and he wanted Petyr Baelish kept safe.”

“Aerys wanted to live, the Kingslayer acted otherwise,” Stannis said. “Even the Sword of the Morning and Barristan the Bold found their way into changing loyalties during the rebellion. True knights are rare, and often a white cloak can hide a man’s true colors.”

Edric’s face fell at that and although Jon thought Stannis somewhat right, he hated to see his little brother so crushed. Since he was but a small boy, Edric’s head had been full of dreams of being a knight, aspiring to either the Kingsguard or to act as Jon’s sworn shield one day. He would welcome that of course and was about to remind Edric when something drew him to look ahead.

The direwolves now stood tense and ready at the edge of an open field; beyond them, a great many deer grazing under the blue sky. He counted four stags at least before Robb gave a cry and they bolted.

“Aha!” Lord Robert boomed, hefting his spear up. “I wager a barrel of red that me or mine bag the largest of the day!”

“I’ll take that wager!” the Blackfish shouted as he galloped ahead, Robb right in his wake.

Everyone scattered, sounding horns and loosing arrows. He stayed with Ghost, for the direwolf was chasing after a large stag and a pair of does. Edric came with, and together they rode hard after the prey. They had to, since Joffrey and the Hound were chasing the same deer. Though the Hound’s black stallion, Stranger, was a fearsome beast, but the weight of his rider’s size and armor meant the other three pulled away in time.

By the time the deer sought refuge in the trees with Ghost driving them on, Edric was actually in the lead, with Jon and Joffrey fighting hard for second. Their horses darted here and there around ash and cedars, leaping over brush and breathing hard. The Hound could not maneuver nearly as well and bellowed for Joffrey, yet the prince ignored him and they lost sight of the man in short time.

They lost another when the does broke off and Ghost chased after them. The rest stuck with the stag, for that was the true prize. He realized then they were heading in the same direction the queen’s party had gone when the stag stumbled some. Edric closed on it quickly, his spear raised and ready.

“It’s mine!” Joffrey shouted, lifting his crossbow as if to shoot. “Move you, stupid bastard! That’s my kill!”

“Be careful! Hey!” he called out, for Edric and the stag were too close together and the angle was poor.

Yet Joffrey paid him no heed, and when Edric was about ready to strike, the prince took aim. So Jon lashed out with the end of his spear, smacking Joffrey right in his chest. The bolt loosed, narrowly missing Edric’s head. His brother cried out in alarm as Joffrey cursed, for the fool was so unsettled by Jon’s blow the prince let himself get struck by a low hanging branch and knocked off his horse.

Joffrey landed on his arse with a squeal of pain. Beyond a sore ass, Jon figured the prince would be fine so he rode on, but not before mocking the fool some, “Next time you’ll watch which stag you’re aiming at!”

“Yeah! Serves your right!” Edric shouted back.

During all this Edric had managed to strike the stag. Though an impressive feat, it wasn’t enough to bring the prey down, which now left a bloody trail in its wake. The wounded beast sought the safety of a thicker part of the forest, with enough trees and bramble that their horses could not follow. So they abandoned the mounts to follow the blood trail.

“That idiot nearly killed me,” Edric said with astonishment, the lad gripping his spear tight as they ventured on. “Thanks, Jon. I mean it, you’re probably going to get in trouble.”

“Well worth it to see that arse on his arse,” he ruffled the boy’s dark hair. “Besides, you’re my future sworn shield. I see it as an investment in my well-being, when I’m old and feeble, you’ll do the same for me.”

“I will. I swear,” Edric vowed before growing grim. “Do you think Princess Daenerys will be upset? Joffrey’s her cousin and I don’t want her mad at you because of me.”

“Don’t worry. She has enough reason to dislike me already.”

“But she does like you. The princess is always smiling and saying nice things-”

“That’s called good manners. Princesses tend to have those in droves.”

He paused to check the ground, and found the trail to have changed direction. When he rose to point Edric onward, the lad had a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Robb’s right, you’re bad with girls.”

“And you’re poor at stalking prey. Hush up.”

Edric did as he was told, and together they continued on through the brush. Not that he thought the lad was wrong, Robb had seemingly won Ysilla’s heart with ease, and Lord Robert was famed for his conquests. The closest Jon ever came to romance was sharing a first kiss with his cousin, Sansa, in Winterfell’s godswood. A childish dalliance Sansa soon moved on from when she fell hopelessly in love with Ser Waymar Royce on his way to the Wall.

_Another more charming than me, though it’s not like I’ve made much of an effort with Daenerys._

_Edric’s right. She’s been nothing but kind, I could stand to offer her a compliment… maybe even a gift._

Some rustling in the bushes ahead then and Edric pointed to where a pair of antlers could be seen poking up. A fallen tree had cut off the stag’s escape and with them so close, the beast was trapped. With a signal to Edric, the lad raised his spear and nodded. Soon they were both closing in on the deer, Jon taking the lead, just in case the stag charged. Though he was but moments away from a kill, his thoughts were on Daenerys.

_Are deerskin gloves too low a gift for a princess? Maybe some boots instead._

_If father can list all the city’s brothels, I should be able to track down a decent tanner._

Suddenly a branch snapped behind them. He was turning around when several things happened all at once. First he was shoved to the ground. Even as Jon was falling he heard the familiar twang of a crossbow and the swish of something flying through the air.

“I said it was mine!” Joffrey’s voice rang out.

He raised up off the ground to see the filthy prince about twenty paces back. In Joffrey’s hands the crossbow stood empty, his green eyes brimming with rage. Jon was about to go and throttle him but there was no need.

Unlike Joffrey, Ghost gave no warnings as he approached. Then the wolf was lunging up at the prince and Joffrey screamed, his arm clamped within Ghost’s jaws.

“Ghost! No!” Jon shouted, climbing to his feet.

“Jon…” Something in Edric’s voice made him freeze.

As Joffrey screamed and struggled against Ghost, Edric trembled and swayed some on his feet. The boy gaping down at the bolt sticking out from his middle, staring at his own hands, now coated in red.

“Jon… Jon, it hurts…”

Then Edric was falling into his arms and everything became a blur. Joffrey cradling his torn arm. Ghost licking his bloody lips. How heavy Edric felt as he lifted his brother up and took to running.

“No, no, no,” he begged of Edric and the gods. “You’ll be fine… I’ve got you… I’ll save you…”

“I’m ruining your clothes…” Edric rasped, staring at the blood staining Jon’s shirt. “Father will be so mad…”

“He won’t. I’ll tell him how brave you’re being. How strong.”

Jon needed to be stronger. He remembered carrying Edric about like this when they were younger. The boy was so much lighter then. Full of laughter and smiles. Now Edric wept in pain, his face growing paler with every passing moment. Jon felt himself growing weaker too.

His legs and arms tiring as he raced through the woods. His throat growing raw from his shouts for help. His face stinging from the branches and shrubs cutting at it. His chest aching from the efforts… his heart pounding like a drum…

Mostly from the fear he held for the little boy bleeding in his arms.

Still he ran. He needed to get to the horses. To ride out of here and find father. To find help and save the boy.

“Just a little farther…” He wheezed to Edric. “Just a little bit… then a short ride… you’ll be back to the castle in-”

His words and hope died away all at once. The horses weren’t where they left them. All he saw was trees. An endless amount of trees. Jon stumbled then, collapsing in defeat upon the ground. Sweat and blood running down his face, Edric gasping and feeling as heavy as a boulder.

He didn’t know the way out. There was so much forest and no strength left in him. His legs had turned to stone, invisible blades stabbed deep into his arms and back. Edric needed him to rise but hopelessness shackled him down.

Until a white blur flashed before his eyes. Ghost leap in front of them and began pawing at the ground. His red eyes shining brightly. Urging Jon to rise.

_He wants me to help Edric… to protect my brother like he protects me…_

_To follow him. Yes. Yes, Ghost can lead us out._

Both Jon and Edric groaned in pain when he climbed to his feet once more. Feet he forced to moving, his legs too. Again and again until he was running. Following Ghost on through the woods.

_Hurry, hurry… we don’t have much time…_

He wept to think of how little time he’d had with Edric. Five years apart. Years his little brother had needed him. It couldn’t end like this.

_Not like this. Not here. Not now._

Edric was so pale, so quiet. Nearly as silent as Ghost, who was pulling away from Jon with every passing moment. The wolf wouldn’t slow down again. Ghost knew what they were running from.

He was trying to outrun death itself. It was right on his heels, closing in as Edric’s breathing grew fainter. Following the bloody trail of the wounded stag in his arms.

Yet it was not death that found them first. Only the pair of dragons Ghost led them to.

One whose eye for once inspired more hope than fear.

And the other he would owe more than a gift to.


	6. Decisions and Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selfish wants. Hard choices. Parting ways.

**CERSEI**

_The King’s Solar_

She held Joffrey tight, keeping him close as she glared at the cause of his hurts.

Across the wide room were the Baratheon lord and heir. Lord Robert looked a brute, his arms crossed as he and Jaime stared each other down. His son was no better. The fiend kept shooting dark glances Joffrey’s way. Her darling prince paid this little mind as he cradled his bandaged arm while the Baratheon heir bore not so much as a scratch upon his grim face.

That will soon be remedied if I have anything to say about it.

In truth, the fact that she had not been granted a private audience to do so was but a fresh outrage.

Shaena was to blame, no doubt. At times it felt like the vile woman’s sole purpose in life was barring Cersei from the power of the throne. Even now the royal family stood divided. While Aegon kept close to Joffrey, Jaime, and herself, her husband’s kin kept their distance. She wouldn’t expect Shaena and the Dragonseye doing so, or even Daenerys, who had earned her ire for tending to a bastard before poor Joffrey.

No. It was the king those three were gathered around. The man that she willed to be by her side, Rhaegar was seated in his tall oak chair, crown resting low on his brow and hands clasped before his comely face in thought.

_Considering how to make things right, I hope._

_On how best to show these Baratheon scum that blood begets blood._

Lord Robert was here to demand much the same. A fool’s errand. To think some accident that befell a clumsy bastard boy could compare to the deplorable and monstrous attack upon her golden prince.

The silence was broken by a weary sigh from Rhaegar.

“How do we find ourselves here? At so dire a crossroads,” Rhaegar gestured to both parties. “Brother, Lord Baratheon, your grievances will have my ear in good order. First, I beg to hear of those who have suffered most. My lord, how does young Edric fare?”

“He lives,” Robert answered brusquely. “The healers weren’t sure he would. A boy his age, a wound that bad, they had to pour boiled wine in the gash…”

The lord cursed lightly and his expression twisted in distaste, before that fell away for one resembling pride. Robert then grabbed at his traitorous son’s shoulder and shook it some.

“Jon did a hero’s work. Edric would be dead if not for him.”

“That’s not true,” Jon argued, turning towards Daeron and Daenerys. “It was Ser Daeron who carried Edric back to the city. The princess who rode ahead to rouse aid.”

“And our family’s healers who tended the poor boy,” Shaena added despite it being a foolish thing to expect gratitude from the likes of the Lord of Storm’s End.

“Help he’d not have needed in the first place if not for your lot,” Robert said. “A boy of my blood was nearly killed, all because of that golden fool right there.”

The lord pointed a finger at Joffrey, doing so with such force that her prince backed away even though they had half a room between them. She stopped his retreat by putting a comforting hand to Joffrey’s back. With her support, Joffrey’s unease passed and her brave prince soon bristled in indignation.

“It wasn’t my fault the bastard jumped in the way of my shot!”

“You’re a bloody liar,” Jon fired back. “Joffrey came from behind and loosed his crossbow right at us. No warning. No mistake. If he wasn’t such a poor shot I’d name him a murderer.”

“I hit what I’m aiming at!”

“Tell that to the deer,” the Dragonseye grumbled.

“Brother, please,” Aegon said with exasperation. “To make jests at your own nephew’s expense? Joffrey has just been slandered terribly. Not to mention the ordeal he’s been through.”

“How is his arm?” Rhaegar asked and she squeezed Joffrey’s shoulders.

“He was lucky not to have lost it,” she declared. “So savage was that northern beast’s attack that his flesh was torn to ribbons and bone near broken. Joffrey will carry the scars the rest of his days.”

“How terrible,” Daeron winked his foul eye at her.

“What a pathetic excuse for a Kingsguard you are. A prince of the blood was attacked and instead of doing your duty, you aided his assailant. My son is owed justice. An attack on his person is one against the Iron Throne itself. Any who lay a hand on one of royal birth shall lose it, that is the law.”

Shaena huffed at that, “What are you seeking then? The direwolf’s teeth?”

“No,” the young stag defied the notion with an infuriating resolve. “Ghost was only protecting us.”

“Perhaps that’s true,” Shaena mused. “Not that it matters much. The white wolf is still at large in the Kingswood.”

“The gold put up in reward will bring in the wolf soon enough,” Jaime said. “Theon Greyjoy swears he’ll take down the beast for bragging rights alone.”

“Theon should be ashamed,” Daenerys’s face twisted in disgust. “The realm’s not seen direwolves for so long. I pray Ghost runs far and free from Theon and the rest of your hunters. Daeron, I ask you, what sort of reward is that for guardian doing his duty?”

“Don’t you start comparing me to a beast too,” Daeron replied. “Hush now, Silverbright. Let’s hear how Cersei will revenge herself upon a wolf she cannot find.”

“There is wolf within my grasp. One right here in the castle,” Cersei decided.

“What do you mean, my love?” Aegon asked.

“The grey beast that belongs to the Stark boy, of course,” she offered smiling.

“You leave Grey Wind be!” Jon near shouted, showing himself to be every bit the brute his father was.

Whereupon Aegon proved himself just as weak as she feared.

“We needn’t trouble the Stark heir. There’s little good to be had dragging his family into this.”

“Perhaps they need be taught a lesson as well. They sent those vicious creatures to court, the wolves and Jon Baratheon. He was Lord Stark’s ward for years, sharing hearth and home with a rebel lord. No wonder he repaid the king’s welcome with violence.”

“That’s nonsense,” Daenerys seeking Rhaegar and clutching at his arm. “Jon didn’t sick Ghost on Joffrey. All he cared about was saving Edric. I saw it with my own eyes-”

“Yet you weren’t there to see him attack an innocent. Tell them, Joffrey.”

“He hit me with his spear,” Joffrey said. “When we were after the stag, that rebel struck me and I fell from my horse. I almost cracked my head.”

“You nearly shot Edric then and there,” Jon fumed. “I warned him. I did. The spear point never went near him and it was little more than a tap-”

“There you have it! He admits it!” she pointed at the Baratheon heir, imagining that behind her lips, her teeth were sharp fangs. “Treason was done in those woods and he must answer for it. I demand the hand that struck my princely son.”

“No!” Daenerys cried out and the Baratheon fiend acted as if struck by a thunderbolt. His father reacted quicker.

“Over my dead body!” Robert bellowed, throwing an arm over Jon’s chest and stepping forward.

“That can be arranged,” Jaime replied with a smile. “Your corpse would not be too big to step over.”

“I’m more than a match for you, Kingslayer. Unlike the Mad King, my back won’t be turned.”

Robert and Jaime looked but a moment from coming to blows and with the Dragonseye and Jon making moves to join, she saw her will being done. Clawing at Joffrey to keep him clear, she watched with anticipation. A brawl here would only help paint the Baratheons as both treasonous and dangerous. Who could deny her vengeance then?

“Stay yourselves!” Rhaegar’s powerful voice rang out, a steel that made all the other voices seem weak and brittle. The king was on his feet, his eyes alive with a fury only she understood and his handsome features set in determination. Once more Cersei saw the prince she once longed to name her husband.

“Stand down or I shall bring each of you to your knees. Ser Barristan and a score of guardsmen await without should any one of you think to do violence here!” The king’s chest was heaving and she could not remember a time when she’d seen Rhaegar so impassioned.

“I swear worse should any try and hurt my son,” Lord Robert spoke gruffly and, shockingly, Rhaegar nodded in agreement.

“I wish no harm to Jon, only to understand him,” the king shifted his focus to the offending heir. “Young man, you freely admit to striking Joffrey from his horse before Edric was wounded?”

“Now wait-”

“I do,” Jon interrupted his father, swallowing deeply to meet the king’s gaze. “Your Grace, I did strike him. Not as Joffrey claims, but I will not lie.”

She smiled while Robert cursed. Rhaegar’s expression had grown ice cold when Daenerys reached for her king once more.

“Rhaegar,” Daenerys pleaded, “please, I beg mercy.”

“A sharp blade will be mercy enough,” she snapped.

“Silence,” Rhaegar raised a finger at her, focusing on Joffrey now. “Jon’s admission is made. Will you stand by your claim? That you were attacked by him?”

“I will,” Joffrey puffed out his chest proudly. “In my father’s name, I so swear it.”

“Then I must ask, how did that boy come to be hurt?” the king inquired, coming to stand so he might look down at Joffrey. “If you were truly attacked, why did you not seek out help? Sandor Clegane was nearby. Others loyal to our family. Yet you continued the hunt.”

Rhaegar was but a breath from Joffrey then.

“A hunt that ended with you missing your shot and hitting Edric Storm.”

“I didn’t miss! I don’t miss!” Joffrey shouted at Rhaegar, to her and Aegon’s horror. “My aim was good, he just got in the way! I’m not sorry! He shouldn’t have laughed at me when I fell! Lannisters always-”

“Joffrey!” Aegon snapped and she saw then how all were staring at Joffrey. Angry as she was at her husband, she made to quiet Joffrey too. Suddenly fearful of him betraying what he’d told her of his true reason for continuing the hunt while tending his hurts.

How he hadn’t wanted the bastard to die. Only the stag. The trueborn one.

She’d promised Joffrey that Jon Baratheon would suffer still. Yet now she was far from certain she could deliver on that pledge. Not with Aegon clearly sharing the others’ unease at Joffrey’s answers.

“I beg compassion from you all,” Aegon said. “Pain is clouding Joffrey’s mind, so allow me to speak sense in his place.” He put a hand to his heart and faced the Baratheons. “I offer my family’s genuine apology for what befell Edric Storm. I feel his suffering as if it were my own, and I pray Lord Robert feels the same for my dear son. Were the lord to accept, I’m certain we could come to an amicable resolution.”

She hissed a warning only for Aegon to shoot her a look growing quite familiar of late. A warning to allow him to handle things. To trust him.

None of which was comforting. All his efforts lately had been directed towards becoming the next Hand. He could not understand there were more important things.

_Becoming Hand means nothing if you are not feared._

_My father rose to those heights after the Reynes of Castamere. After he showed the realm the price of crossing him._

Were father here, it would never have come to this. Her only hope now was that Robert acted the disagreeable lout she knew him to be.

“This apology, it would have to be public,” Robert stroked his beard in consideration, “In court and before my vassals.”

“In writing with my seal,” Aegon countered, gesturing to Jon. “Lest my lord would wish to have his son do the same for the attack against Prince Joffrey.”

“An apology?” Jon repeated aghast. “Father, Edric nearly died…”

“Yes, he did,” Rhaegar said. “A guest to my court was harmed by a member of House Targaryen. Guest right is as sacred to me as any in the realm. Should any violate the law of the land, the consequences are surely dire. Don’t you agree, Lord Robert?”

Robert narrowed his gaze upon the king. An understanding was passing between them that was lost on her.

“With that in mind,” Rhaegar continued. “Should House Baratheon accept these events as foul accidents, I will forego a bride price and submit to a dowry for Daenerys.”

Robert’s eyebrow raised, “In land or gold?”

“If I might be so humble as to suggest land,” Aegon spoke with renewed confidence. “Brother, you permitted me several tracts of the Kingswood for mine own use, I submit that one be given over to House Baratheon. Let this one foul hunt be forgotten in all the pleasant ones to be enjoyed in the lord’s new holding.”

“You can’t be serious,” she objected yet they paid her no heed.

“I hear you saying so, but what of him?” Robert addressed Rhaegar.

“My brother speaks wisely and I embrace his thoughtfulness,” the king agreed. “For what is the cost of land next to forgiveness and the future Jon and Daenerys’ marriage?”

“Too high,” she put in and, amazingly, it was Shaena who added her voice to Cersei’s cause.

“This is not the time to discuss a dowry. Yes, the charges Cersei laid against Jon may be too severe,” Shaena tilted her head and glared at Jaime. “Which is quite rich considering the crimes her twin never answered for. Yet there’s cause for some form of chastisement here, Rhaegar.”

“Jon has suffered enough already,” Rhaegar snapped, some color coming to his cheeks. “As has his family. I’d have this end here if Lord Robert is of the same mind.”

“It suits me well enough,” Robert took hold of his incredulous son. “Should this apology and land be furnished, I’ll do as you wish.”

Thus the matter was closed between the three. The king, the rebel, and her weakling husband. No other was given any say on the matter and none were given the justice they sought.

When Rhaegar dismissed all from his presence but Aegon and Shaena, only Daenerys seemed pleased with the turn of events. Cersei left to guide Joffrey back to her chambers, to soothe his confusion and nurse her own anger at what had transpired in the solar.

Once he was settled enough, she sent him on to his rooms. All so she could pace back and forth about her chambers for what felt like hours. She was not even permitted Jaime for the Dragonseye had kept him back.

_At least that creature has a backbone. Perhaps I would have been better served wedding Daeron instead._

She was dosing such notions with a cup of wine when Aegon finally returned to her. The moment he opened his arms and offered a comforting smile, she slapped him soundly.

“How could you?” she near screamed. “You betrayed Joffrey! You betrayed me!”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Aegon rubbed his reddening cheek in shock. “My love, please, I had to act as I did for us.”

“You made us look weak. Joffrey is full of doubt that you love him and I worry that you are a man at all.”

She turned away, but he followed. Trailing after her like a mewling pup.

“Cersei, beloved, do not speak so. I love Joffrey with all my heart. That is why I had to end Rhaegar’s questioning. My brother had doubts. Foul, dark doubts about Joffrey and what happened in the woods. As sick as it made me to treat with the likes of Baratheon, pressing the king does us more harm than good. ”

“Will you say the same to my father?” she asked and Aegon balked some before answering.

“I shall. Rhaegar is enamored with Dany’s union with House Baratheon and he’d not forgive us easily were our son the one to spoil it. You know how Rhaegar is. I might feign forgiveness, but he is genuine in his. To accept terrible acts against his own family, against the crown, it sickens me. Just as it would if Joffrey was shamed or worse for that hunt. I did what I had to do to protect him.”

Aegon then put a hand to his chest and bowed his head. “Once Rhaegar names me his Hand, I vow we’ll never have to endure such embarassment again.”

“So that is to be your reward for feeding our son to the wolves? Did Rhaegar name you his Hand?”

“He did not say so…” Aegon admitted, though not deterred in the least. “But he did thank me for being so reasonable and asked my thinking on envoys to the Free Cities. He swore to discuss the Handship with me soon, in the same breath as promising to make Joffrey his squire within the year.”

_More promises. Father promised me marrying a child would secure my rise._

_Then and now, a little blood would’ve solved my problems._

“Shaena will never let him name you Hand. Your sister begrudges her betters too much to allow that.”

“You wrong her, Cersei. Shaena was full of talk of how poorly the court would see Rhaegar’s handling of this affair. That we Targaryens would be mocked for bending so for the likes of Robert Baratheon. Forget Baelor Hightower or the Red Viper, she’ll be more amiable to me as Hand now. As recompense.”

“Our recompense was to be Jon Baratheon’s hand!” she raged, pushing at Aegon’s chest and driving him back against the wall. “Go look on Joffrey’s scars and see if any of your words heal them! We were owed blood!”

“I was owed blood!” Aegon surprised her by snapping back. “The Baratheons will pay, one day. Whether it be Robert, Renly, or Jon that pays the price, I’ll see it done. Yet when will your brother pay what’s owed?”

His demeanor darkened and his hands became fists.

“Shaena spoke well in the solar. You wish to hold Jon Baratheon to account? Well, swallow that vengeance. As I have the rightful fury I hold towards your twin for my father’s murder.”

“Aerys was a madman.”

“He was a king!” Aegon flushed as Rhaegar had, shocking her by shoving a finger in her face. “Jaime Lannister slew mine own father and I welcomed you to my bed. I endure that oathbreaker’s presence only because of how deeply I love you. I can accept such things for you.”

He then grabbed at her hands, “Do the same for me, dear wife. For our future and our children’s.”

The urge to crush his hand within hers was strong, yet she kept it down. There was little use in hammering dough and expecting it to become steel.

“The children always come first,” she tried to speak softly. “I swore to love and obey you, Aegon. If you believe this is for the best, I will do as you say.”

It would be better to let him believe so. There was no gain to be had in pressing Aegon further. Allowing her husband a kiss of her cheek and a tender hug earned her all the trust she needed of him. Were it not for other matters he need attend to, she might even have bedded him. All for the sake of her children. But once Aegon had left, she sought their true father.

Jaime was where he was she wanted him, in of the one of the lonelier towers here in the Red Keep. Their signal was simple, her maid would come and wish him a good night and invite him for a shared meal on the morrow, and Jaime knew to come to this spot within the hour.

There they snuck into empty servant’s chamber. They had but one candle between them, yet the room was so small the little light it gave off illuminated sparse furnishings fit for only the lowliest of servants.

The only thing she cared to see was the tiny bed against the wall.

“Sorry, Daeron was convinced you’d be leaving the capital,” Jaime said, kissing her passionately. “He wanted me to request to allow another to act as your protector. Took an hour for him to understand the words, ‘fuck off.’”

“Good, I need you now more than ever.”

She kissed him again. Deeply, her tongue darting into his mouth, her hands stroking his face and then lunging down to feel his hardening flesh through his pants. Usually it was Jaime who acted so hungrily, she liked leading him to that point. For, as alike as they were, Jaime was still a man and a slave to the wants of his cock.

“Gods, Cersei,” Jaime groaned as she started to unlace her gown. “I didn’t think… after how Aegon crumbled to Robert-”

“Don’t speak of him,” she fell back upon the bed, lifting her skirts and pulling Jaime down atop her. “You’re the one who has my heart. Now take my body. Now, Jaime. Show me how you love me.”

He wasted no time in freeing his cock. With a wild-eyed ferocity, he tore her underclothes to get at her cunt. The state he was in had fueled her own arousal, and he entered her with ease, groaning and biting his lip.

“Did you mean it?” she moaned as Jaime thrust into her. “What you said. In the solar. That you’d kill Robert?”

“Fuck. Yes. Yes. Gods I would. For you. For how good you feel. I’d kill Baratheon a hundred times over. For you.”

“Not for me,” she cupped his face and wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. “For Joffrey. For our son.”

“And it’s not Robert I want dead.”

“It’s his son.”

 

**DAVOS  
** _The Hook_

The cobblestone street was called The Hook for good reason, for it was a long and curving thoroughfare. Although he’d grown up in the city, Davos could not claim to know it as well as some other quarters. This was the quickest route to the River Gate from the heights of Aegon’s High Hill. The power of the Red Keep at its crest attracted the wealthiest and most prominent men of the city here. Their homes and the shops that serviced them lined the descent.

_A lowborn lad of Flea Bottom had little reason to walk such a street._

_There was a time I’d have been chased from here, taken as a beggar or worse._

Oh, how things had changed. He now travelled this street as a landed knight, who had guested within the walls of the Red Keep itself. The castle did loom large in the night sky behind him, its lights growing fainter with every step. At this late hour, he wished to be there still. Indeed most dwellings and storefronts around him had long past shuttered their windows, yet his charges were insistent on finding livelier destinations.

A glance behind showed the heirs to House Baratheon and Stark behind him. Jon and Robb wore hooded cloaks much like those of their guards. Ser Colen of Greenpool and Jate Blackberry walked to either side of the boys while Omer, Jate’s younger kinsmen, lingered to the rear with a torch.

These were diligent men, and thus shared his unease about this outing. The heir was not the most popular person in the capital of late and keeping him within the castle walls seemed smart. Unfortunately, within the castle was the last place the young heir to Storm’s End wished to be. Father and son had quarreled again. While Edric’s survival had united Robert and Jon in joy and relief, all the dealings that came after reignited the discord between them.

“You’re letting Joffrey get away with it,” Jon had accused his father as Davos tried to back out of the lord’s guest chambers. “A few false words, some land, and you forgive the monster that shot my brother. Your son!”

“Don’t you presume to lecture me!” Robert had raged. “I took your foolishness and arranged a future for the boy. Land might not mean much to you, coddled as you’ve been, but that’s Edric’s future you’re insulting. That land will be his. He gets better than most bastards can dream without touching a bit of your own inheritance.”

“I’d hand it all away to see Joffrey answer for what he did.”

“They damn near took your hand, you fool!” Robert did shout and take hold of Jon’s tunic, jerking him forcefully. “You attacked a prince and boasted of it! As if this lot aren’t the children of the madman who murdered the Starks in this very castle! I’d have demanded that golden shit torn limb from limb if I wasn’t forced to save you from yourself!”

“I had good cause-”

“You think my lords would rise in rebellion for your good cause? For the sake of my byblow with a Florent?”

“I didn’t want a war!” Jon had struggled free of his father’s hold, who then scowled at his heir.

“And what in the seven hells did you think you were pushing us to?” Lord Robert shook his head and sighed. “Gods, son. I look at you and see your mother. Gods, I loved her, but how you’ve been acting reminds of her faults. The willfulness, the foolishness, that’s how the Knight of the Laughing Tree got Lyanna. If not for me, the Lannisters would’ve had you too.”

Jon had paled at this and Davos had felt embarrassed for him. Their eyes had met and the heir made the escape he had desperately wished for himself. Yet when Jon reached the door, he’d paused.

“I’d have let them come. Met them with sword in hand and demanded a trial by combat. My father did not raise me to lay down.”

“I’d not let you throw your life away. Do you truly think that shit Joffrey would fight you, man to man? No, he’d hide behind the Kingslayer. Or that Hound of his.” Robert had followed that by spitting at his son’s feet. “There. That’s better than your grandfather got when he demanded a trial by combat from the Targaryens. Rickard learned of a dragon’s honor then and I spared you facing the same. Now stop whining like a boy. Be a man. But do so out of my sight.”

Jon had taken those words to heart. From as near as Davos could figure, all the boy wanted was to get away from Lord Robert. It was Robb who suggested they try some of the city’s famed alehouses while doing so.

“I don’t see why we have to go this way,” Robb said to him. “Before Jory took ship he had a grand time at the taverns to the north end. He smiled to speak of them.”

_Likely because that area lies near the Street of Silk and the taverns there are half brothels themselves._

“I’m sure they’re fine establishments, my lord. Yet two young highborn lads such as yourselves deserve the best King’s Landing has to offer. Only a ways on and you’ll see the truth of it. Trust me.”

Robb made no argument to that. As they continued on, he felt a smuggler again. Sneaking about in the night, hiding his true intent. For Davos had never been to the tavern they now sought. It was a bastion of the highborn and he was not that. What little he knew of The Rogue Prince came mostly from rumor and the overheard conversations between his betters.

When they arrived outside the tavern in question, he found it be a well-made brick and mortar inn, with moss climbing up one side. The finest feature was the stone archway above the door. There the likenesses of two maidens reached high to form an arch, their left hands meeting about the carved face of a handsome yet stern looking man. His unseeing eyes gaze down at them as they journeyed within.

Once inside any misgivings he held were forgotten. The interior of the tavern was lavish and impressive. Three silver chandeliers gave light to the large open space below, dotted with tables of smooth stone and chairs of rich oak with velvet cushions upon them. Ringing this area were alcoves with red silk curtains that could be pulled closed should those within seek privacy.

Some had already done so, likely to shield themselves from the boisterous group taking up three tables. He spied the sigils of the Rowans, Mootons, and Rykkers among them, yet recognized their leader in an instant.

“One more round!” Lord Renly raised his tankard to the cheers of his audience. “For all my new friends, so I might toast you all! What fine company do I find at court! I shall remember you all when I take my place upon the Small Council. In my heart and voice, your interests will be mine!”

Another wave of cheers went up yet Renly’s smile disappeared amidst them. The lord had caught sight of them, and as others did the same, the merriment died down. All eyes were on Jon.

To his credit, Jon did not recoil. He’d been enduring such ever since the gossipers got word of his role in Prince Joffrey’s hurts.

“Well, well, it’s the Lion Maimer.”

The voice belonged to none other than the Red Viper himself. Prince Oberyn had pushed aside one of the closed curtains, stepping without with an amused expression upon his face.

“That’s not my name,” Jon replied. “The king’s Master of Whisperers should know better.”

Prince Oberyn grinned, “Forgive my confusion but I’m not the one who did you a disservice. For I did not hear your uncle announce your arrival. Has drink clouded your vision so badly you did not recognize your nephew, Renly?”

“Save your hissing for the shadows,” Renly shot back before opening his arms towards their party. “Jon! Robb! Feel free to join our number. I fear how little time I have left with you before your departure to Storm’s End.”

“We’ll not be going anywhere until Edric is able,” Jon gestured to an empty table far from Renly. “There seems a fine place to drink to his health. I pray you do the same, uncle.”

With that Jon waved Robb on, sitting at his chosen table as Ser Colen and the guards took up at a table beside them. When Davos made to join those men Jon pulled out a chair at his table.

“Please, Ser Davos. Unlike some here, I know you’ll be sincere in drinking to Edric.”

“Always, my lord. He’s a fine lad,” he answered, then sat where he did not belong. “I’m sure Lord Renly feels the same, you should sit with him.”

“He does not want me there. I’d ruin his merriment.”

“You may be right at that,” Robb leaned back in his chair. “Call me mad if you want, but when we walked in, Renly soured so I thought Stannis was here.”

The lads laughed at that, and even Davos smiled at the jest. Soon a comely woman approached them, dressed finer than any servant ought to be, and inquired after their wants. As the young heirs ordered a round, he took in more of the room. Among the scores of highborn men he spied Ser Jaremy Rykker of the Night’s Watch sharing tankards with Ser Baldric Wendwater and Ser Jacelyn Bywater, Lord Commander of the City Watch. Unlike many of the others, these men did not keep glancing their way, for Ser Jaremy’s companions seemed more concerned with how drunk he appeared.

Davos glanced towards Oberyn’s alcove and saw the viper had returned within. The flapping of the curtain allowed him a glimpse of another within. A man sharing a table with Oberyn, one Davos recognized from his days as a smuggler.

 _Morosh the Myrman,_ he recalled, _one of Myr’s finest admirals._

_A sellsail as well._

As he wondered at what use the viper had for such company, the curtain was pulled shut by Ser Daemon Sand. Oberyn’s man did not join his master, instead going to sit a nearby table. There he joined young Othor Hightower, Oberyn’s nephew, who boasted the dark hair of the Martells and bright eyes of his Hightower father.

It was the squire’s connection to Lady Lynesse Hightower that peaked Davos’s interest. For it was her husband Othor served.

Robb had Jon grinning again when Davos spied the squire’s master.

Sitting in an alcove, all by himself, was Prince Jaehaerys. The tall and quiet Targaryen knight was shrouded in shadows yet a tall bottle of wine and goblet could be seen on the table before him. Although Davos could not make out his eyes, he had the unsettling feeling the prince was staring at them.

“Ser?” Jon interrupted his worries, offering him one of the tankards the serving woman had just delivered them.

“We are drinking to Edric then?” He took hold of the drink and kept it raised.

“To him and the future of House Baratheon,” Robb added and Jon’s face darkened.

“They are separate things according to my father.”

“You are too hard on him,” Davos felt compelled to say. “Lord Robert was trapped between seeking justice for Edric and safeguarding his heir. Even your uncle Stannis speaks to how favorable the outcome was for your family. It could have gone badly for House Baratheon.”

“Because of me,” Jon slammed his tankard down. “So you think it too. That this was all my fault.”

“No, I truly don’t. All know where the blame lies. Yet fairness and justice are not always linked, my lord. It’s a truth I know well.”

His maimed hand flexed on the table and Jon’s eyes went there. Then the lordling looked to the bag of finger bones about his neck.

“My uncle ought not have done that. Not after all you did-”

“Lord Stannis did as the law demanded. I don’t begrudge him that. Not after he gave me a better life than I ever dreamed. The laws of this land didn’t demand that of him. Not for a lowborn wretch like myself. The same goes for bastards. Your father won Edric better than he has any right to expect. When you become a lord, it will be in your power to do good by your people. Just as Lord Robert and Stannis have.”

“I’ll do more,” Jon held out his tankard. “A man’s worth is not beholden to his birth. I see that now. To justice being just to all.”

Robb reached to meet the toast. “Aye, there’s honor in that. Protect those that march to protect us. To being just.”

“To you both,” Davos joined in. “And young Edric.”

The ale was a darker sort, with a taste of rich hickory. He felt a fatherly worry at how quickly Jon and Robb finished theirs, yet they did not rush to the next. Instead they talked of how they might find Ghost in the Kingswood, of their hopes that Jory and Robert Stone would arrive safely in the North, and that Robb’s letter to Lord Stark win permission to ask the hand of the Lady Ysilla in marriage.

Robb was speaking of the lady when a visitor came to their table.

“A good evening to you,” Othor interrupted them, his smile made brighter against his tan skin.

“My prince wishes me to deliver you a gift,” the squire continued, displaying a bottle to them. “Arbor Gold. The finest in the realm. I can tell you that my father and mother drink nothing else on Elinor and my namedays-”

“Tell the prince, thank you, but we cannot accept,” Jon said. “House Baratheon is a great house yet its wealth is my father’s. I’ll not take a gift that I can’t afford to give.”

Othor blinked at the rejection, and to his credit, he departed respectfully enough. Marching straight back to his prince, who then took hold of the bottle and rose. They all watched as the towering prince came on, his pale purple eyes locked on Jon.

“Might I join you?” Prince Jaehaerys asked softly, settling the bottle on the table. “If you’ll not take the wine as a gift, then share it with me as a favor. I’ve had my fill of drinking alone.”

“Well, we can’t abandon a knight in his hour of need,” Robb nudged Jon. “Fine wine and better company is a boon to any evening. There’s no dishonor in sharing the bottle, coz.”

Davos gave a small nod as well, silently urging Jon to see good sense in this. The last thing Lord Baratheon needed was another dustup with the dragons.

“My cousin has the right of it,” Jon’s expression softening as he gestured to an empty space at the table. “Should it please you, my prince, you are welcome to sit with us.”

Davos rose to offer Prince Jaehaerys his seat, only to look rather foolish as the prince dragged a chair from a nearby table to sit directly beside him. The knight sat somewhat shakily and Davos wondered if he was drunk. The man’s eyes were a tad glassy and several strands of hair had escaped the simple binding behind his head.

“You would be the Onion Knight?” the prince asked as he waved for another cup and a serving woman to fill them.

Jon bristled, “He is Ser Davos Seaworth, a hero to my family.”

“I am a humble servant,” he added modestly. “That His Grace knows of me at all comes as a shock.”

“Your tale is well known, ser. Young Jon speaks truly. You acted heroically in the rebellion.”

No sooner were the cups filled than Prince Jaehaerys raised one towards him.

“Shall we drink to good men doing good in this world? No matter their allegiances.”

Robb was the first to meet the toast with a bemused expression. He and Jon quickly followed and all drank as one. The vintage was far better than he expected. Strong enough to numb his tongue some, only for a rich, fruity aftertaste to take hold. His eyes had closed in the tasting and when they opened he expected be amongst the vineyards of the Arbor.

“Well, there’s all other wines ruined for me,” Robb licked his lips. “I don’t know whether to thank the prince or curse him for that. So let me congratulate him on his new title instead.”

The resolution of the Joffrey situation had totally eclipsed the other announcement made at court that day. Namely that Jaehaerys had been awarded the palace and lands of Summerhall by his brother, the king.

“May you find happiness at Summerhall,” Jon spoke earnestly and lifted his cup again.

A gesture the knight did not return.

“When it is rebuilt, I pray I might,” Prince Jaehaerys sounded quite put out. “Until then I am to stay in the capital. My brother has tasks for me here. All of which makes Lynesse happy beyond words. I envy her.”

“You’ll miss Dragonstone then?” Robb asked as the prince drank alone.

“I will, very much so. My clearest memories of my mother are there, the Seven see to her soul,” Jaehaerys put fingers to his brow. “May Viserys come to love that isle when he takes up my role there.”

“So Prince Viserys will be castellan of Dragonstone?” Jon asked evenly, his hand clenching about the goblet the only clue to his disdain of Viserys.

“Yes. A favor Rhaegar did for me,” Jaehaerys answered. “My brother has fire in his blood. Too much for most to stomach, I know. Yet they don’t know what he saw. What we saw.”

He shivered some and drank again. His purple eyes looking sadly between Jon and Robb.

“We were there when Lord Stark and his son were burned. For the screaming… for the smell…” Jaehaerys shuddered. “All of it haunts me still. In his own way, Viserys was troubled as well.”

“Not so much as my father,” Robb spoke in a tone beyond his years. That of a lord.

Jaehaerys nodded, swallowing deeply, “You are right. Rhaegar has offered apologies in the past, but I beg your forgiveness for standing witness to that crime. For watching and saying nothing…”

The pause that followed was a pregnant one. All the bad blood between the Starks and Targaryens seemed to thicken the air between them. Instead Jon grabbed hold of Robb’s shoulder.

“It’s like as you say, Your Grace. You were a boy. My uncle Eddard and father were little older than us when King Aerys called for their heads. Yet all of you were innocent before the war.”

“We won’t blame you for its wrongs,” Robb finished.

“I thank you for easing my mind,” Jaehaerys stroked his chin. “Now I beg you, Jon Baratheon. Do the same for my beloved sister, Daenerys.”

Jon was taken aback. “The princess? What troubles her?”

“Much and more. When I spotted you here, I saw a chance to speak on her behalf. Daenerys feels shamed by Joffrey’s behavior. She wept for your brother and fears you hate her for what’s been done to him.”

“That’s nonsense. How could I hate her? She helped save Edric-”

Jaehaerys held up his hand. “The lad was wounded by her blood. That your father secured a fine recompense does not lessen her guilt. Daenerys has a good heart and she would very much like to visit your brother. To show her future husband that his pain is hers.”

“The sight of the princess would do Edric wonders,” Davos added with heartfelt honesty. “The lad had always been in awe of her grace and kindness. It might help heal the gulf between your houses too.”

“Yes, yes it would,” Jon admitted, his eyes lowering to the table. “I let her feel unwanted. After she spoke up for me. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“I am pleased to hear so,” Jaehaerys sipped of his drink as the others gaped. “Do not mistake me. You’ve no reason to feel guilty. It’s the consideration you show for Dany’s feelings that I welcome. For a long while I have worried on the work Renly and I did at Dragonstone. It was hard to know how much of the praise he showered on you was true or not.”

“Renly spoke well of me?” Jon raised an eyebrow and looked to Renly’s group. Renly had his back to them, busy encouraging serving women draped in silks and satins to charm his companions.

“The words were pretty, yet they lacked heart. Handsome. Courteous. Well bred. Renly might have been talking of a horse.”

“My uncle knows more about his horse than me,” Jon spoke plainly. “He and Stannis paid me little heed growing up. To his credit, Stannis might’ve been honest about that. Renly would name me Orys Baratheon reborn if he gained from it.”

Robb grunted in agreement yet Davos could not let such stand.

“You should not jest about your noble uncles so,” he hinted. “The prince may get the wrong idea about the deep esteem you and your uncles hold for each other.”

“Ser, I know you are Stannis’s man first, but you need not defend him here. I cannot blame my uncles for our poor relations. My father was never shy about reminding them of their place in our family. That all they have is what he’s given. How their home is to be mine.”

It was true. An ugly truth that he wished Jon had not brought up. All too often when Lord Robert was in his cups he’d taunt Stannis on those matters. Whatever enjoyment the lord took from this was poor payment for the wall of harsh feelings it built between Stannis and Jon.

“He mocked them…” Prince Jaehaerys drained yet another cup, thudding the empty one down. “When Viserys and I were boys, Father would make mock of our older brothers. Daeron, Egg, even Rhaegar. He’d bid his followers to laugh at them. To scorn them. Egg played it off… always so eager to please. Viserys liked all the praise father heaped on us. It didn’t matter that half of it was lies. That he talked of us as if he barely knew us at all… except as the sons still under his control.”

The prince trailed off and an awkward silence followed. They finished their drinks in silence as the merriment around them grew louder. In the time the four took to finish the prince’s gift, some dancers had arrived. They circled the room, twirling about with silken scarves, which followed after their bodies like the ribbons in their hair. One tossed a golden scarf to Ser Jaremy, causing the dark-cloaked knight to flush.

“We ought to bid farewell to Ser Jaremy,” Robb nudged at Jon. “I’ve heard he’s to sail all the way to Eastwatch. If he can’t guest at Winterfell, we can see him off as if he had.”

Jon looked to the prince, “Would you excuse us for a moment, my prince? A man of the Night’s Watch is deserving of-”

“Do not let me keep you,” the prince said, waving for a new bottle and letting his hand rest on Davos’ shoulder. “I am in good company.”

Thus the two lordlings left him to entertain a prince. Davos felt like every eye in the room was on the pair of them. Prince Jaehaerys, hero of the Greyjoy Rebellion, pouring a drink for the Onion Knight.

He was holding his finger bones again when the prince slid the drink over to him.

“Thank you, Your Grace…” Davos struggled. “I wonder who shall take Ser Jaremy’s place? To keep the court concerned on the state Night’s Watch, that is an order as tall as the Wall itself.”

“I’m sure it would be,” the prince chuckled at a jest Davos had not made. “The choice has already been made. The watch is to send my great uncle Aemon. Brother to Aegon the Unlikely, Maester of the Citadel, Rhaegar claims he has more wisdom in his smallest finger than all of us combined.”

“I did not know there was a Targaryen at the Wall…”

“Its Lord Commander surely did. He won a hefty payment from the Iron Throne for Aemon’s return. Three maesters of the citadel, hundreds of horse and livestock, oh and near a thousand men. Among them builders, craftsmen, fitted and kitted knights…”

“Truly?” Davos could not comprehend how such a commitment had gone unnoticed by the gossips of court.

“Within a year’s time,” Jaehaerys shrugged. “That’s what Rhaegar believes at least. Our family will only supply a small number, the rest are to be drawn from those in our debt. Though most don’t realize it yet.” He flinched. “Collecting on those debts would be hard enough even with Egg involved. After this business with the Handship... Rhaegar just doesn’t understand... respect goes both ways…”

Jaehaerys caught himself then, for it was obvious the drink had kept the prince talking long after he should have been silent. The mention of the Hand drew his eye to Renly, who led his influential companions in a bawdy song. Then on to the Red Viper, who was enticing two of the dancing girls to join him behind the alcove’s curtains.

“So many thirsty for more,” Jaehaerys grumbled, drinking again and putting his head in his hands. “This wine will soon punish me for my thirst. My head will suffer surely, yet it’ll still heal quicker than their pride. People are never just happy with what is… why is that?”

“Some times a man wants better for himself. For his family,” Davos replied.

“And if that want leads to worse?”

He maimed hand flexed at the thought. The drunken prince was slipping into that bad place drink often took troubled minds. Yet when Davos sought out Jon for some assistance he became troubled himself.

The lordling was nowhere to be seen. Robb was listening intently to Ser Jacelyn, Renly entertaining the crowd, Ser Colen and the Blackberrys practically drooling over the dancing girls who were moving in renewed fervor. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Jon behind their scarves as they rose and fell.

He gruffly excused himself from the table, doubting Jaehaerys noticed at all as he went to the knight Jon had sought out.

“Ser Jaremy,” he interrupted the ser’s words with a giggling golden-haired woman. “Forgive me, have you spied Jon? Lord Baratheon’s son?”

“Yes, yes a fine lad,” Ser Jaremy toyed with the woman’s chin. “First met at Winterfell, before I supped of the delights of the south again.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“Where who went?” Jaremy nuzzled at the woman’s shoulder so Davos took hold of his arm.

“Jon Baratheon. Where did he go?”

“Unhand me,” the knight bristled so that the girl grew fearful.

“It’s the dark one you’re looking for? Comely and young?” she asked before holding up a lovely purple ribbon. “Didn’t he go with that peddler? The one M’lord bought this from?”

“Right, that he did,” Jaremy shook free from Davos’s hold and pointed at a distant archway towards the back of the tavern. “Lad perked up at the idea of getting some fine gift.”

He barely heard the rest. With a holler, he rallied Ser Colen and the others, Robb knocking several chairs over to join them in rushing to the back door. His hand was on the pommel of his sword when Robb wrenched the door open, charging out into the night.

He found himself in a back alley, barely lit by the lone torch beside the door. It was bright enough for him to catch sight of two figures at the edge of the light. Squinting hard, he recognized one as Jon. The other fueled his need to be by the heir’s side.

For it was none other than the Dragonseye himself.

“Dragonseye! Hold!” Robb shouted as the men rushed towards the white-cloaked Targaryen. All were drawing swords as the white-cloaked knight turned from Jon to meet their coming. Though he could not see the Dragoneye’s face, his actions showed little fear as his hand calmly moved to the sword on his belt.

“I’ll hold this,” the Kingsguard spoke in a cold, deliberate manner, all whilst being encircled. “I’ll keep my blade right where it’s at. That is, unless one of you fools make my steel more nervous than myself.”

“Stop,” Jon commanded, raising his hands. “Every one stop. Robb, sheath your blade.”

“My lord, are you alright?” Ser Colen asked and Jon nodded.

“I am. The ser and I were only talking.”

“They told us you came out here with a merchant,” Davos put in and the Dragonseye grunted.

“That would be the fellow that took off once I made myself known,” he pointed down the dark alley which opened into a labyrinth of others. “I suspect his goods weren’t up to scrutiny.”

Jon lowered his head sheepishly, “He said the wears he kept with his cart were worthy of a great lady. When we got out here, something didn’t feel right. He tried to get me to follow, but I started to feel like someone was out here. In the shadows ahead. That’s when Ser Daeron came up behind us.”

“You’re welcome,” Ser Daeron added.

“Well good, no harm done then,” Ser Colen slid his sword back into his scabbard. “Let’s get back inside then. Those girls are putting on a fine show.”

“I didn’t come here for the dancers,” Jon protested to Ser Daeron. “Truly, just the drink. I’d not wish to shame the princess-”

“You’re not wed yet, lad!” Jate shouted and the guards drowned out Jon’s words in boisterous laughter, enfolding the heir in their grasp and bidding him back within the tavern.

Which left Davos and Ser Daeron staring at each other through the flickering light of the shadows. Something didn’t feel right about any of this. Jon being lured out here, the Dragonseye awaiting him. Years of living the smuggler’s life had made him familiar with ambushes. Through the foul smells of the city, he could swear there was blood in the air.

“Problem, Ser Onions?” the Kingsguard asked.

“Apparently not,” he answered, glancing at the door. “Do you often enter a tavern through the back entrance? The front door is surely more befitting a prince.”

“Not when this prince wishes to drag another home without making a scene,” Daeron replied. “My brother is still within?”

“He is.”

“As is your heir. So it seems there is no reason to waste any more of our time out here. I assure you, Ser Onions, you might be poor company but I am surely worse.”

“I do not doubt it, ser.”

Such bold words hid the unease he felt at turning his back on the Dragonseye. He had taken only a couple steps toward the door before stopping. His ears had picked up on a sound somewhere in the alley.

The scraping of a boot against the ground.

Clearly the Dragonseye had heard it too. The prince was now staring out into the shadows, his expression a mirror of the darkness around them.

“The merchant or his accomplice?” Davos inquired.

“Likely just some beast. A mad creature seeking a feast where he doesn't belong.”

There was anger in Ser Daeron’s voice. Enough to hurry Davos on through the doorway. The last glimpse he had of Daeron was an armored form standing firm against the night.

The Dragoneye's shoulders were tensed, his arms at his side, cloak flapping in the light breeze.

Standing guard against whatever watched from the darkness.

 

**DAENERYS  
** _Guest Chambers_

Once, there was a time when others read stories to her.

Rhaegar, Shaena, Daeron, even Egg now and again. All had taken their turn at entertaining a little girl, one hungry for tales of a world beyond the castle walls. Now it was Dany who leaned back in a chair with two young faces eagerly awaiting her to continue reading from the heavy tome in her lap.

It made her smile seeing Edric Storm and Shireen Baratheon so enraptured by the tale. The poor lad was still confined to his bed despite his vocal desire to leave it. While it was true some of his color had returned, beneath his linen shirt his chest was still bandaged.

She wondered which was tighter, the bandages or Shireen’s grip on her cousin’s hand. The young lady sat where she always did, right by Edric’s side. Jon swore that Shireen had been with Edric every waking moment since the healers allowed it.

 _I wish I had started visiting earlier_ , she thought, _not that Edric wasn’t already in good company._

“Don’t stop now,” Edric urged from his bed. “What happened when King Baelor walked into the snake pit?”

“You know what happens,” Shireen hushed him. “I’ve read you this story before.”

“Not from this book you didn’t.”

“It’s based on the same account by Maester Alon. He served the Wyls when King Baelor came there to save the Dragonknight.”

“How?! How do you know everything?” Edric’s attention shifted to Shireen so suddenly that she had to laugh.

“Shireen, you put my tutors to shame. Let’s leave the tale here for now. Would you like to play a game instead, Edric? Care to try your hand at cyvasse again?”

“No,” Edric crossed his arms and winced for the effort.

Shireen rapped him lightly, “Don’t be so stubborn. How will you ever win if you don’t try to learn?”

“One day I’ll fight with a real army and not a toy one. Jon promised me.”

“Edric,” a stern admonishment came from behind them. There stood Jon, leaning against the doorway leading to the dressing area, wearing black leathers and a tan doublet. These were her betrothed’s chambers, for Jon had refused to let Edric heal anywhere else.

“I said should a fight ever come, we would stand side by side,” Jon continued with a wink. “As brothers should.”

“That’s what I said,” Edric mumbled only for Shireen to repeat word for word what the lad had actually said.

Dany paid it less mind than Jon’s arrival, for as sweet as the children were, her visits were made even better by his presence.

“I take it I missed today’s story?” he asked and she shut the book soundly.

“You did, my lord. Tardiness cannot be rewarded. Perhaps forgiven, should the reason be good enough.”

Jon’s solemnness returned suddenly.

“I heard the latest hunting party had returned. I needed to make sure Greyjoy hadn’t made good on his vow. That Ghost still lives.”

Her heart dropped. It had been a thoughtless thing for her to needle Jon when he still had a loved one in harm’s way.

“They found nothing,” he added, looking towards the window. “Ghost is out there somewhere. Hiding in the woods. Waiting for me to come to him.”

“And you will,” she rose to face him. “Ghost will emerge when someone worthy seeks him. I’ve cursed Theon and the others a hundred times over for this. To think that I ever named him a friend…”

“Once my family named yours an enemy,” he replied with a shrug. “I’ll forgive your poor judgement if you forgive mine.”

Somehow she was only a step away from Jon. The urge to reach for him was so strong that her hands clenched. When their eyes met Jon stiffened some as well, tensed but not in threat. Once they could barely speak to one another, now such silences were filled with a sweet tension she welcomed.

Their audience reacted differently, for Edric and Shireen began to giggle amongst themselves at the display. They both stepped apart then, her cheeks burning.

“I cannot wait for your wedding,” Shireen said wistfully. “Mother says I’ll have to wear a veil, but if we’re in the front row I’ll see most everything.”

“Front row?” she repeated. “Dear Shireen, you’ll be closer than that. If you’re willing, I was going to have you carry my bridal train.”

“That sounds boring-ow!” Edric winced as Shireen squeezed his hand in shock.

“Please don’t tease me, princess… please,” the girl whispered so sincerely it pained her.

“I’m not. If Jon agrees, I’d gladly have his cousin help me to the altar.”

A glance to Jon showed his good cheer returning. The many days she’d spent visiting Edric during his recovery had meant many an hour of getting to know him better. Jon could not be more different than Lord Robert, and all in ways she liked. Especially in how he cared after those most others overlooked. He worried endlessly about Edric’s recovery, as well as Shireen’s future standing.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea. The duty is yours, Shireen. If you want it.”

“I do! Thank you! Thank you!” Shireen ran to Jon, hugging him as she wept tears of joy. When she made to embrace Dany as well, Shireen stopped herself and backed away before curtsying politely. Jon then guided the girl back towards Edric, who looked overwhelmed as Shireen took to jumping and clapping. All so Jon and Dany could retire to his small dressing chamber.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he spoke quietly. “What of your ladies?”

“They’ll all have weddings of their own one day. It’s as you said, poor Shireen may not. Though I pray you’re wrong.”

“I’d love to be,” he said sadly. “It’s her scars. Most people aren’t as kind as you. Even if Stannis was loved, the scars put people off. Father talks of the committing Shireen to the faith, but I’ll never let that happen. I’d find a place for her at Storm’s End.”

“Let her serve in my household,” she said. “Should the day come when Talla, Gael, and Elinor must leave me, Shireen would make a fine lady companion. Edric can be your knight, Shireen my lady.”

“Do you remember it’s me who is in your debt?” Jon asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Only by your estimates. One day I will live in Storm’s End. Is it not wise of me to fill it with as many friendly faces as I can?”

“Storm’s End will be more than a roof over your head. It shall be your home. I will make it that.”

“We will do so together,” she touched at his wrist.

His arm shifted so suddenly she thought him pulling away. Instead his hand grasped hers, pulling it tight to his body. Then they were looking at each other again, so close that his breath warmed her cheek.

_Two moons, that was all it took for him to steal my heart._

_And for me to lay claim to his._

Odd as it was, things between them had grown better despite all the strife that had arisen during the Baratheons’ visit. The disastrous welcoming feast. The fall of Lysa Tully. Nearly losing Edric. By any measure the Targaryen-Baratheon rapprochement should be dead.

So she took no small bit of pride that it endured through her and Jon.

“Have you spoken with your father?” she asked and he sighed.

“Yes. You were right. He mostly cared that I understood why he accepted the king’s terms. Even told me not to blame myself. ‘The fates can push us to do the right thing at the wrong times,’ he said. It sounded like something the king might say.”

“I hope you didn’t say so,” she squeezed Jon’s hand and he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He stood firm on leaving by the end of the week. The castle healers say Edric can make the journey and no one wants to stay any longer. Robb tried to delay too but it was no use.”

That saddened her. Beyond their worry for Edric, she and Robb had similar motives for keeping the Baratheons at court. Robb would be free to court Ysilla and she could bask in the fresh romance that was blossoming between her and Jon.

“So you’re to leave then,” she lamented. “I let myself have hope.”

“Storm’s End isn’t so far. Spend some time in the North and you’ll feel that castles in the south are but a breath away.”

“I’ve seen the maps. On them Dragonstone is just as far and I never saw Jay enough.”

“That’s different. He didn’t want to come back-”

Jon stopped himself too late. She wondered if he’d gained such insight during their escapades in the city. Her brother had been doing poorly of late. While Lynesse was practically glowing with the attention of court, Jay had become a man of drink and dark moods. She found herself wishing for Viserys to return, if only to raise his spirits.

She wanted desperately to change the subject when the gods delivered someone knocking at the chamber door.

“Dany?” Gael poked her head within, her fleshy cheeks flushed. Right behind came Elinor, who was white as a sheet.

“Sorry. Really, we don’t mean to intrude…”

“You should come, Dany. It’s… well… you should really come. Now.”

She wanted more time with Jon but something was truly wrong. Her friends were never so demanding of her.

After a rushed farewell to the Baratheons, she was swiftly led through the tower by her ladies.

“It’s bad, Dany. So, very bad,” Elinor nearly wept as they pulled her on.

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard it from Talla first!” Gael said excitedly. “She was there when one of Lord Tarly’s stewards brought the news. There’s talk that King Rhaegar will be naming her father to the Small Council.”

“Oh, well that’s good for Talla I suppose,” she said whilst feeling sorry for the others on the council. However great a martial leader Randyll Tarly was, he was one of the least personable men she’d ever met. He was dismissive of those who did not measure up in his eyes. Which ladies surely didn’t.

“You don’t understand,” Gael continued as they reached the stairs. “Lord Tarly won’t just have a seat on the council. He’ll have a new title. Master of Laws.”

She stopped mid-step, “What? Rhaegar is dismissing Jon Connington? That makes no sense, he’s one of my brother’s staunchest-”

“The Griffin isn’t going anywhere!” Elinor yanked on her sleeve. “He’s rising as well!”

Gael nodded. “As high as Jon Arryn did. He’s to be the new Hand, Dany.”

Her feet were moving again but seemed to do so on their own. Court had been waiting for weeks for Rhaegar’s decision on who would be the new Hand. Gossip named several popular contenders, Prince Oberyn being Shaena’s preferred choice while Renly Baratheon was proving a favorite of the newcomers to court.

Yet it was the third name bandied about that had seemed the most likely.

“Egg,” she worried aloud. “By the Seven. If it’s true, he will be devastated. Do you think he’s heard?”

“That’s why we came to get you,” Gael explained. “Talla told me to wait, to give you time with your betrothed-”

“Prince Aegon knows!” Elinor blurted out. “I was playing my harp in the Maidenvault. For the king and queen both. Then Prince Aegon and Princess Cersei barged in with Ser Jaime! I had to stop because your brother began demanding King Rhaegar to deny the rumor or else he’d quit the capital.”

“What did Rhaegar do?”

“He would not deny it but I heard no more. The king sent all away save the royal family. Even my father and mother!”

_Then there is where I must be._

Clouds were gathering in the sky as the gravity of the situation became clear to her. Everywhere in the castle she saw proof to what her friends told her. Men wearing Egg’s livery were rushing to and fro, readying wagons for a swift departure. Beyond that, those of court were working themselves into a frenzy, spreading gossip and worse as fast as they could.

A crowd had gathered outside the slant-roofed Maidenvault. All held back by a cordon of Targaryen guardsmen being led by the castle’s captain of the guard,

Ser Alliser Thorne.

“The royal family demands privacy!” The sour ser barked. “All audiences will have to wait! So unless you are of royal blood, be gone! Hear me! I said…” He noticed her coming, “Princess, a good day to you.”

“To you as well, ser. We will be calling on my family if you don’t mind.”

“All are barred, save your family and Kingsguard,” Ser Alliser eyed Gael and Elinor, “the ladies ought to return to their parents. ”

While she did not care for the knight’s brusqueness with her friends, they understood well enough. With quick kisses to their cheeks, Dany left Gael and Elinor and entered her sister’s keep.

She was well within the passages of the Maidenvault when her ears were assaulted by angry voices. Usually Shaena’s hall rang with the sounds of laughter and music, not shouts and curses. Ser Balon and Ser Robar were crowding the doorway to the wider hall, so enraptured by what was unfolding she had to squeeze by the two Kingsguard.

Within she found her family at war with itself. Egg was shouting at Rhaegar as Shaena bandied insults with Cersei. Ser Jaime bore witness to this by his twin’s side, smirking away while Ser Barristan had the decency to appear embarrassed. Only one of the Kingsguard was actually involved in the quarrel, for Daeron was loudly berating Jay, whose head was bowed and pallor pale and sickly.

Rhaegar did not look much better as he rubbed at his temple and endured Egg’s furor.

“I have served where you asked. For years! Years upon years!” Egg bellowed, his face red with anger. “I swallowed the maiming of my son for you. For the Seven Kingdoms themselves. All so another can rise in my place. So you can slight your own flesh and blood. Again!”

“Brother, be reasonable,” Rhaegar held out his hands. “One day you may rule at my side. For now, I need you for other tasks.”

“As a mat under his feet,” Cersei snapped before jabbing a finger at Shaena. “Right where she wants you.”

“I had no part in this,” Shaena waved a hand dismissively at Cersei to reach for Egg. “Aegon, you are disappointed by this. We all are.” She shot a glare at Rhaegar. “Yet do not your passions or foul counsel cloud your mind. House Targaryen must stand together.”

Egg brushed Shaena off, “How can it be so, sister? How can our family stand together when our king drives us apart? I am a loyal subject, but this is the last humiliation I will be served at this court. If I must stomach it, I will do so in the privacy of mine own hall.”

“It makes no matter where we hide,” Cersei hissed. “Running only deepens our shame.”

“All have already heard of it,” Ser Jaime added. “Thanks to the loose lips of a prince.”

“Don’t you dare,” Daeron warned his sworn brother before taking hold of their actual brother and shaking Jay sharply.

“Not that he’s wrong. Damn you, Jaehaerys. I warned you. How many times? The damn drink loosens your lips. So what do you do? Drown yourself in a cask of Arbor Gold and spread our business across half the city!”

“I’m sorry,” Jay struggled to keep his footing. “I don’t remember saying anything… truly I don’t. Egg, it was you I wanted to tell… Rhaegar I told you not to burden me with this… oh gods…”

Her brother then bent over and heaved, getting sick all over Daeron’s boots. Daeron cursed and pushed Jay back, knocking him onto the ground.

“Stop! All of you!” she cried, running to Jay and bending to tend him. Only then did she smell the wine on him.

_Oh, Jay. Sweet brother, what’s become of you?_

_What’s become of us?_

“Dany? No, no,” Jay covered his face and moaned. “Don’t tell Lynesse… please…”

“Oh, now you care about keeping secrets,” Daeron grumbled and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Leave him be or lend a hand in helping him up. Either way, be silent.”

Shame clouded Daeron’s face, and he soon did as she hoped he would, helping Jay to his feet and offering their brother an arm to lean on.

“Daenerys, you should not be here,” Rhaegar rebuked her softly. “It would be best if you took Jaehaerys on to the maester. When all is well again between Aegon and I, we will-”

“Things will not be well between us, Rhaegar,” Egg spoke with a tone unheard of for him, one of defiance. “They cannot be unless you mean to change your mind. You have not announced it formally. Connington will understand if the rumor is false. The realm will see the wisdom in it being so. The man is a fine servant but no Hand. Father saw that for himself.”

“The failure was not in Father’s Hand, but in his reign,” Rhaegar replied, doing as Shaena had and coming to put his hands on Egg’s shoulders. “My reasons are my own, Aegon. Please, trust in me as I trust in you. You are still my Master of Coin. Beyond that, there is a grand undertaking I hope to entrust you with.”

“But not the one I deserve,” Egg met Rhaegar’s gaze. “If you command me to stay, I will. Yet I ask my king, for all my years of leal service, if you mean to name that man Hand over me, then do not ask me to bear witness to it.”

Rhaegar hands moved over Egg’s shoulders, a comforting motion she’d never seen pass between them. Was this a glimpse of a time before her birth? Of the boys they’d been?

“My heart bids me to keep you here,” Rhaegar near whispered. “Yet I must rely on my judgement and good sense. So I must stand by choice in Hand. Even if it means letting you go.”

“Then do so,” Egg lifted Rhaegar’s hands from him and stepped away. Bowing to Rhaegar and Shaena both, Egg then rose to offer his arm to Cersei. “Dear wife, we have a journey to prepare for.”

Cersei did not appear pleased by this turn of events. Yet whatever argument she hoped to make was interrupted when her twin made to follow.

“Hold there, Ser Jaime,” Ser Barristan commanded the knight, who turned with an exasperated look on his face.

“I am charged with protecting the lives of my sister and her husband. How am I to do so if I am not with them?”

“You are relieved of that duty,” Ser Barristan said to the shock of the Lannister twins. “Prince Aegon, if you wish a Kingsguard, Ser Robar or Ser Balon shall be made ready for your uses.”

“What is this nonsense?” Cersei demanded. “My brother stays with me.”

“He belongs wherever the king has need of him,” Ser Barristan replied with a cool look to the golden knight. “Something he has proven woefully inadequate at of late. Do you deny being away from the castle on the night you were appointed as protector of the king’s quarters?”

Ser Jaime shot a furious look at Daeron. Her brother’s foul expression deepened under the Lannister’s gaze, appearing disappointed in his comrade.

“I had an errand to attend to that night,” Ser Jaime explained. “I was led to believe another of our order was to take my place.”

“Your absence is a dereliction of our most sacred of duties. Our oath to the king,” Barristan declared. “Something you need to be reminded of and until I feel that lesson has been understood, I cannot see fit to let you serve outside my purview.”

“Keep him then,” Egg shrugged dismissively to which Cersei balked.

“What? I’m to leave my home and brother in the same day?”

“We have other castles to call home and more than enough able guardsmen to see to our needs. We have leave to go, your brother does not. He may serve the crown poorly, but he does so all the same. Farewell, ser.”

“As if you mean it,” Ser Jaime shot back and it was Egg’s turn to smirk.

Cersei lingered in her place, seemingly torn. Yet after a quick look between her brother and husband, she turned her back on the former. Dany noted the flinch that crossed Ser Jaime’s face as they left. A flash of pain that was gone as soon as it appeared. Only a few moments later, the disgraced knight followed Ser Barristan and out, likely to face further rebuke from the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Meanwhile, Shaena had her own ready for Rhaegar.

“That was foolish,” her sister said, circling the king. “Letting them go. Imagine how that will be seen? Lord Tywin is already gnashing his teeth over Joffrey, now you allow Cersei and his principal agent at court to depart in shame? Congratulations, Rhaegar. You mended ties with the Baratheons only to fray them with House Lannister.”

“The Lord of Casterly Rock will see his way around this,” Rhaegar sounded exhausted. He went to an ornate window, possibly to watch as Egg and Cersei crossed the yard to make ready their departure.

“I mean to appoint his son, Tyrion, to the same endeavor I hoped to task Egg with. Tyrion Lannister has a mind for such business. Egg will soon return to us. After the rebuke he is likely to face from Lord Tywin once the lion learns of the opportunity our brother rejected.”

“Opportunity?” Shaena raised her hands in exasperation. “What are you going on about?”

“The Inquiry,” Daeron said with a raised eyebrow. “You’re going through with it then?”

“You sound surprised,” Rhaegar replied. “You are more than a sword and a suit of armor, Daeron. Your counsel was sound. This business with Petyr Baelish is only the latest in a series of betrayals. With a Blackfyre resurgent across the Narrow Sea, it is time I put my realm in order. Dig out the roots of any further treachery before they spread too far and deep.”

Daeron grunted in agreement, “Baelish might be dead but there was enough in his ledgers and what not for us to put some hard questions to many a lord.”

“You’re going to summon men to trial here?” Jay sounded sick. “Like father used to?”

“No, not unless it’s necessary,” Rhaegar said. “This Inquiry will be on the move. It will go where it is needed, as Septon Meribald does. They will inspect books, depose witnesses, and if disloyalty is found, it shall rest with them whether it warrants a trial or some recompense from the offender.”

It dawned on her suddenly.

“That’s how you mean to get what’s needed for the Wall,” she said. “All that you promised the Night’s Watch. Jon and I spoke of it. We couldn’t see where you’d find it all without taxes or drawing from our own strength. You’re going to take it from those who dealt with Littlefinger.”

All looked at her in surprise then. While Daeron smiled some, Rhaegar frowned as he nodded.

“To a point, yes, Daenerys. You are right. From what Oberyn and Egg learned from their investigations, there are many houses that owe us a debt. One which I am sure some will be very willing to pay.”

“So if Egg was to head this Inquiry, what now?” Shaena asked.

“Egg was to be the face of House Targaryen among them,” Rhaegar explained. “One of three heads along with Tyrion Lannister and Jon Connington. My old friend has the right character for such an endeavor and the added authority of being Hand cannot be gainsaid.”

“It can if it hinders the running of the realm,” Shaena came on to inspect Jay’s condition. “The Griffin is more a fist than a Hand. Yes, he may be right for to handle harsher concerns, yet who is to help run the kingdom while he hunts treachery?”

“There will be one I depend on more than any other,” Rhaegar took to staring out the window again, which rain now pattered against. “One who will be my Hand in all but name.”

“Oberyn?” Shaena needled. “Surely not Renly Baratheon. You’ve given the stags too much already-”

“It’s him,” Jay straightened some, escaping Daeron and her grasp to stand by Shaena. “Just be honest with them, brother. About why you went to all this trouble. Why a position for an envoy from a Night’s Watch was created in the first place… all so you could bring him here.”

“Aemon,” she and Shaena said together, and they shared a look of surprise between them.

“Yes,” Rhaegar spoke as if this was a simple thing. “A maester. A prince. A dragon. He has more wisdom than every one of us combined and it is being wasted on the Wall. I can never name him my Hand, yet Aemon shall be it in every other way.”

“That’s why Connington had to be Hand,” Daeron rubbed at his temple. “He can play along with being a mummer’s Hand, but Egg...”

Rhaegar sighed, “He’s coveted this position for too long to tolerate such an arrangement. If Egg ever truly wishes to rise so high, he must wait his turn.”

“You would decide this without me?” Shaena’s hands balled into fists. “Plan it for years, execute it without a word my way, and stand there without an inch of shame? When we married I prayed you to never become our father, now I pray our son’s time in Highgarden has made him a better sort than his own.”

“I did so for reasons beyond our marriage, beyond the needs of our family itself. For the future of the whole of the Seven Kingdoms.”  

Before Shaena could press her outrage Jay stepped in front of her, shakily dropping to a knee so loudly he grabbed Rhaegar’s attention.

“Brother, allow me to take Egg’s place on the Inquiry. Let me represent House Targaryen in this.”

“You?” Rhaegar blinked at the request. “I wished this undertaking to commence soon and with your child due to be born… I’d thought to put you in charge of disposing of the wildfire caches still within the city. It’s a duty you might find peace in…”

“I’ll find more outside these walls,” Jay said desperately. “Lynesse can have the babe and join me later. I’ll make it work somehow.” He swayed some to put a hand to his chest. “I cannot do so here. Look at what this place does to me. I hate the taste of wine. I despise it. Still, I welcome it more than the demons that haunt me here. Set me free of this hell. Please, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar stood over their brother, eyeing him in reserved silence. It hurt to see how Jay trembled, at how terrible this lengthy stay had affected him. He was a giant among them, and his heart matched his size. When it ached, it was impossible to ignore the pain he was in.

“My Lord of Summerhall shall be among the triarch of the Inquiry,” Rhaegar said, waving Daeron forth to help Jay stand. “These will not be easy days for you, nor your family, yet it is not in me to deny another brother.”

“This one thanks you dearly,” Jay actually smiled at Rhaegar, yet it faltered when he began to hug Daeron. “I’m sorry, it should be you, Daeron. You’re better made for it, but forgive me. I need this.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You heard Barristan, there’s a need for we Kingsguard to remember our vows.”

“Something that was a long time coming,” Shaena said with an inquiring tone. “Years of defending Jaime Lannister and it’s you I have to thank for him being held to account. It must feel odd to finally see reason.”

“Man missed his watch, he can atone for it,” Daeron replied coldly. “Let it be, Shaena. Time away from Cersei would do anyone good.”

“I cannot argue with that,” Shaena smoothed her skirts as she made to leave. “Yet I should go and see that Egg’s departure does not come across as bad as it is. I’ll arrange flowers to be laid across the ground, have Oberyn spread whispers of Cersei being with child, and of course we’ll all be there to see them off.” She made a point of stopping near Rhaegar. “We owe Egg that much.”

Without looking to her, Rhaegar inclined his head in agreement. With Shaena leaving and Daeron helping Jay out, she found herself alone with Rhaegar. Most times, she’d try to ease his mind. Or seek his approval for how she’d come to understand his machinations.

Yet right now, she didn’t want to be around Rhaegar.

_My betrothal. Bringing Aemon here. Keeping all of us in the dark on different matters._

_Once you read me stories and I believed all you said._

_Now I’d be a fool to._

Since he was paying her no mind, Dany made to leave. She was almost to the door when Rhaegar spoke to her.

“How is Jon?”

“Jon? He is well. Everyday Edric improves and his spirits grow brighter.”

“I am glad for that,” Rhaegar said in his distant manner. “And for you visiting the boy. I believe it does Jon well to know you care for him. That a Targaryen loves him. You do love him, don’t you?”

She was speechless. Rhaegar had not bothered to ask if she could love Jon before promising her to him. Now he had the audacity to expect she did.

It angered her, no matter how reasonable a belief it proved to be.

“I think I do,” she said. “If not, I am certain one day I could.”

“Good. Your heart is pure and your love will reflect that,” Rhaegar ran his hand down the rain streaked window. “With so many problems in our family, I still want Jon to feel it a worthy one to join. I want him to feel a belonging among us.”

“He belongs with me. As I do with him.”

Rhaegar said nothing to that. So she left him there in the hall. With the fighting at an end it had grown deftly silent.

Save for the beating of the rain.

A gentler storm than the discord they’d sewn within.

**JON**

_Tower of Welcome_

The day had come at last. House Baratheon was heading home.

Whether Jon liked it or not.

His chamber had already been emptied, all his belongings joining the rest of his family’s in a steady stream out of the tower. All had been loaded into the wagons and mules waiting in the yard. Stannis himself had overseen the efforts, pushing the stewards, servants, and stablehands as if they were an army set to march.

Such strict methods bore fruit. It was only a few hours after daybreak and everything was nearly ready. What delay there was could be blamed on his father. During the farewell feast the night before, Lord Robert had imbibed enough wine to drown a pony and was sluggish to rise today.

Of course, Jon was moving at a slow pace himself, tending to a duty that required more care than haste.

He and Jate Blackberry were helping Edric down to the yard, each holding one of his brother’s arms as they managed the stairs. With Edric moving so stiffly, Jon kept them at a slow pace which greatly frustrated his brother.

“We can go faster, Jon,” Edric urged. “You don’t need to treat me like a babe. My legs work fine, remember?”

Jate’s scruffy face broke into a smile at that, “You’re a tough one, lad. By the time we’re back at Storm’s End, you’ll be ready for the yard again.”

“He has to get down this tower first,” Jon replied before leaning in to whisper to his brother. “Take it easy now and save your strength for later. Your audience is already impressed, no need to overdo it.”

Edric’s cheeks reddened as they both glanced over their shoulders at the ladies behind them. The night before, Daenerys had sworn she would come to bid farewell to them in person. Sure enough, the princess had arrived at his chambers bright and early, with Talla, Gael, and Elinor in tow. At first her friends had been full of yawns, but they had livened up considerably since. Gael and Elinor were now keen enough to catch him gazing back at Daenerys, eliciting a bout of giggles and whispers.

Then it was Jon’s turn to blush, yet the embarrassment didn’t stop him from looking.

Daenerys was stunning. Most of her silver blonde hair fell straight down over her shoulder and back, save for a braid ringing her brow like a tiara. To him, she looked a queen. Yet her new gown signaled an embrace of an entirely title altogether. His eyes took in the dress again, which was as black as ebony, with gold lace trim about the neck and sleeves. Golden embroidery stretched across her bodice, reaching upwards in two distinct patterns.

That of antlers.

_She wears Baratheon colors. My colors._

_Hers too, one day._

Their eyes met and, although Daenerys smiled, he saw the sadness in them. It was a feeling he shared. Today they were to part and he hated the thought. There was little he liked about the capital, yet Daenerys was reason enough to stay.

He wished it could be so, for their sake and Edric’s.

His brother’s condition was laid bare nnce they reached the bottom of the tower and stepped out into the wide, walled yard,. The morning light glinted off Edric’s sweaty brown hair, his teeth gritting from pain as they guided him by the horses and wagons of House Baratheon.

When they found Stannis, his uncle acted more put out than Edric. The large man was glowering at their coming, his jaw working unceasingly as he stood waiting before a wagon.

“I wanted Edric down here an hour ago,” Stannis spoke harshly. “He was to have a chance to rest before the journey. Look at the state of him.”

“We delayed for good reason-”

“Stark will likely say the same.”

Stannis grunted, turning his attention to the yard wall. There he spied Robb and Ysilla together once more. Robb held the lady’s hands as she wept gently. Some words from his cousin and Ysilla offered a small smile; a few more and Robb had her laughing through her tears.

His uncle was not moved by the display of blossoming love, turning his disapproving gaze from Robb to Daenerys and her party.

Finally looking to Jon as he shook his head, “Whatever other _matters_ you were seeing to, your duty to this family must come first.”

“I was seeing to our family,” he explained. “With so many people on the stairs, I didn’t want to risk Edric being jostled or knocked down. Was I to command the serving folk to hold and stall your preparations?”

Stannis’s jaw tightened even more, “Robert’s done a fine job of that himself.” His uncle waved some guardsmen over then. “You lot, help Edric into his wagon. Jate, go find Harys and tell him to fetch the horses I had readied. The last sober thing Robert commanded of me was to have our finest mounts ready so you two could ride out in grandeur. That is, if he ever climbs out of bed.”

However he felt towards Stannis right now, he uncle was right. His brother needed a rest. Yet Edric pushed himself a touch further, grimacing as he bowed to Daenerys.

“May the Seven keep you, princess,” Edric said. “I hope you come to visit Storm’s End soon. It would be grand to take you on a hunt.”

His words that left an impression on Talla Tarly, for once Edric was in the wagon and Stannis moving away, she made an intrigued sound.

“I’d not thought that boy would ever wish to hunt again.”

“Edric’s always liked hunting,” Jon explained. “There’s so much my brother’s denied. Not hunts though. At Storm’s End, our father always included him.”

“My brother was thankful whenever our father left him behind,” Talla said.

“Truly? I saw Dickon ride out with Lord Tarly often. He seemed happy enough.”

“Not Dickon, my other brother,” the lady spoke quietly. Her perfect posture faltering as she lowered her head with a somber expression.

_Samwell Tarly. Gods, you fool._

_Daenerys told you he was sent to the Wall…_

“Maybe Samwell will come here,” Elinor said, the young girl smiling brightly as she made to cheer Talla. “With the king’s great-uncle! Imagine that, Talla! He could sail in and see all his family waiting! His sisters, his brother, his mother and…”

The harsh look Talla gave Elinor caused the girl’s words to die away. Gael stepped between them, taking both by the hand.

“Look at us, being such terrible ladies,” Gael swiveled to regard the pair in turn, sending her curly hair bouncing against her rosy cheeks. “Our princess only has a short time more with her betrothed. Time we’re swallowing up with nonsense. Do forgive us, Dany.”  

“Of course,” Daenerys replied. “Though some privacy would be welcome if Jon feels like taking a stroll with me?”

He quickly offered his arm, “Where you lead, I’ll follow.”

Daenerys rewarded him with her touch and a sweet sounding laugh as she came on. Her ladies kept a respectful distance behind them, arguing in whispers as Dany led him towards the mossy wall at the edge of the yard.

“Every day you surprise me,” the princess looked up at him. “We are taught it’s the woman’s duty to obey. To follow where her lord leads. Yet twice now you hand that power to me.”

“This is your home. I’ve not been here long enough to be an expert on where you wish to stroll, so I’ll not pretend otherwise. If I hadn’t followed your lead last night, I’d be at a loss to name your favorite balcony in Maegor’s Holdfast.”

He felt a welcome warmth to recall their time together last night. The farewell feast for his family had dragged on well after the king and queen’s departure. With so many still enjoying the king’s bounty, Daenerys and Jon could scarcely hear each other. So when she had suggested they sneak off, he could not deny her. Any who might care were distracted by other concerns.

His father was busy retelling another tale of battle. Robb lost to endless dances with Ysilla. Even the Dragonseye took no notice, so focused was he on returning the fierce glaring of Ser Jaime.

Thus, Daenerys was able to guide them out of the hall by the servants’ entrance. All the way to balcony that overlooked the courtyard below Maegor’s Holdfast and offered a fine view of the starry night sky above.

Despite their intent to speak more, he’d found himself comfortable in the silence that followed. Content to merely lean against the rail beside Daenerys, gazing up at the heavens while the music of the feast played on. How their hands came to touch he couldn’t say, but once they did neither pulled away.

He had thought to kiss her. Truly, he had several thoughts of kissing her. She might have let him too, for when he’d turned to face Daenerys, Jon found her staring at his lips. Her own parted and inviting.

How he yearned to have felt them. Though he was glad to have not have tried, for it would have doubled his embarrassment when the king stepped out onto the balcony.

“Daenerys, Jon,” King Rhaegar had broken them apart with his words alone, walking towards them with a troubled expression.

“Your Grace,” Jon had dropped to a knee while Daenerys stayed standing, her voice unusually firm.

“We were only looking at the stars, Rhaegar. The feast was becoming tiresome and Jon has but one night more here so I thought to-”

“Do not worry, sister. Shaena will not hear of this,” the king cupped Daenerys’s cheek and sighed. “Yet another secret I will keep from her. So let us not betray each other.” Rhaegar kissed her brow before directing her back into the keep. “Return to the feast. Jon shall follow shortly.”

The king had then reached down to help him to his feet. When Rhaegar noticed Daenerys lingered, the king’s his expression hardened as Jon’s father and uncle Ned would when their minds were set. Daenerys must have seen the same, for she left Jon alone, to shift awkwardly under the king’s gaze. He remembered feeling like those lilac eyes were trying to burn holes in his face.

“I meant no insult, King Rhaegar,” he had said sincerely. “I’d not dishonor the princess. Nor would she allow it.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” Rhaegar had agreed. “There’s fire in her. In my life I’ve encountered the like in the rarest of souls. Daeron has it. My friend, Arthur did. Your mother, as well.”

“I believe my father might say the same,” he had replied, hoping to shame the king into ending the conversation. Or at least move on to another topic.

Yet Rhaegar was undeterred.

“ _Lyanna_ ,” the king spoke the name hoarsely. “It is too rare I can speak of her openly. Whenever I do those who either hate or love her unite to curse me. Will you do so?”

“I won’t. Out of respect for her, I will not slight a king,” Jon had clenched and unclenched his fists. “My mother is at rest, Your Grace. So please, let her be. Do not make me shame her memory.”

“No. No, she would be very proud of you,” the king had looked to the sky above. “Lyanna Stark had a spirit as bright and pure as the light of a star. I will forever be grateful for the glimpse I had of it, however short that glimpse was. I wish you had seen it too and that she might have seen the great man her son is meant to be.”

Rhaegar had reached for him, forcing Jon to back away to escape his touch. The king’s odd behavior was becoming too much, and even Rhaegar appeared to have realized that. Dropping his hand, he had turned his back to Jon, his shoulders slumping.

“My apologies, truly. I am tired and it is showing,” the king gestured for him to head back within the keep. “Go. Return to the feast. Enjoy your final hours in my home. I pray they might convince you to forgive my trespasses against your kin. You as well, _Jon_ _Baratheon_.”

He wasted no time in leaving the king’s company and did his best to do as Rhaegar had asked. After returning to the feast, Daenerys had asked what had happened and he played it off as the king being an overly concerned older brother. She did not need any more cause to worry about the state of the king or her family.

Prince Aegon’s departure had cast a pall over court and it was no secret the king and queen were quarreling. The royal couple was rarely seen together, if at all. The queen held court in the Maidenvault alone and the king appeared in public only out of necessity. Prince Jaehaerys was away aiding Viserys in taking up his new duties at Dragonstone, while the Dragonseye had become a terror in the training yards.

Daenerys made small mention of any of this. She didn’t need to. Putting on a strong face to hide your troubles was second nature to him.

“I wish I wasn’t leaving,” he said as they continued around the yard. “That father would’ve gone on with the others and left Robb and I behind with Edric.”

“That would’ve be wonderful,” Daenerys mused. “Though I can’t fault Lord Robert coveting time with his son.”

Jon nodded, “He did consider it though. That’s saying something. Whatever toleration my lord father had for the capital wore out after Connington was named Hand.”

That appointment had not gone over any better with the Lord of Storm’s End than it did the Master of Coin. Having one of his bannermen put in a position of power over him was distasteful to his father. Especially a man who had sided with the Mad King and Lord Robert defeated in battle.

_We’re here to put the past behind us, yet every step forward is weighed down by the memories of a rebellion long over._

“Be at ease,” Daenerys squeezed his arm. “I’m sure Edric shall continue to impress you all with his endurance. Home is always good for the heart and he’s so eager to have you back at Storm’s End. I daresay he misses your other siblings as much as you. How many years has it been since you last saw Gendry and Mya?”

“Too many,” he said, feeling touched that she committed their names to memory. “As much I love them, our reunion can wait. It sounds selfish, I know. Yet a few days more, a week, it would mean little to Gendry and Mya and more to me. I have unfinished business here-”

“You mean Ghost?” Daenerys stopped him with a hand to his chest, her head tilted and expression full of concern. “The hunts are ending, Jon. Rhaegar couldn’t offend Egg further by openly sparing Ghost, but banning all hunting on royal lands is the next best thing. Ser Baldric will keep our huntsmen in line and punish any poachers he comes across.”

“That’s good to hear, but I wasn’t speaking of Ghost.”

Again, he likely sounded terrible. After weeks of fretting about Ghost he now sounded so unconcerned that Daenerys’ brow furrowed in confusion. What was he to say? That in his dreams Ghost was alive and well? Truly it might be a lie, for he could not rightly describe what he saw at night as dreams. They were far clearer; more real.

In them, he was the wolf. He was Ghost. And he was not far.

“What other business do you have?” Daenerys asked as her pale hair rippled in the light breeze.

“My duty to you,” he took hold of the hand she had pressed to his chest. The other young ladies were still watching, but he cared only for the eyes of the princess.

“When things were at their worst for me here, you stood by me. A stranger you barely knew and owed nothing to. My father speaks of courage, my uncle Ned of honor, and my aunt Catelyn of duty. I’ve seen all that in you, Daenerys Targaryen. That and more.”

His gaze fell to where their entwined hands pressed against his chest. “So I am ashamed to be leaving you in your hour of need.”

“Why do you think so?” she asked. “No harm’s befallen me that I know of.”

“Things are not going well here… with your family,” he felt Daenerys tense and saw her becoming defensive. “Do not think I sit in judgement. How could I with a family like mine? All I mean is, well, if you are hurting or in need of someone to turn to, I wish it could be me. That I could be there for you.”

His words felt clumsy and he imagined they sounded worse. Daenerys would not look at him, suddenly finding the wall a better option. Yet she had not pulled away, nor did she release her grip on his hand. After a moment, that grip grew firmer. Warmer somehow.

“I don’t care much for wishing,” Daenerys wiped at her eyes with her free hand, which were glistening when she faced him again. “Once I wished desperately that Rhaegar would abandon my match to a certain young heir. All the while I promised to see it through. That wish was for naught and I’m thankful for it. Yes, your wish to stay is surely doomed as well, but if we promise to make our separation a short one, I could stand that. A promise, which can comfort me when you cannot.”

“Then you have it,” he swore, fumbling at his belt where a pouch was hanging. A moment later and his fingers found what he sought and drew it up between them.

A carved wooden pin, bone-white in color and shaped in the form a direwolf.

“The Starks of Winterfell gave it to me before I left the North. It’s weirwood, carved from a branch of their heart tree. Lord Eddard said my mother had one like it. I never wear it out of fear of losing what little I have left of her.”

“It’s lovely, Jon,” Daenerys smiled. A smile that was lost to shock when he opened up the hand he held in his to lay the pin in her grasp.

“What? No. No, Jon. I cannot take this from you. ”

“You can’t take what I give freely,” he reassured, “I’ve told you how I cherish it, so know that I intend to see it again soon. In the care of someone I hold dearer still.”

He made to close her hand around the pin and Daenerys did not fight it. She was too focused on reaching up to touch at his face. Her soft fingers drawing a line from chin to cheek before cradling it with her palm. She didn’t know so, but few had ever touched him with such care.

A gasp erupted from Daenerys’ ladies, Gael and Talla quickly moving to hush young Elinor as a hot flush crept up Jon’s face. He was about to pull away when Daenerys urged his face down to hers. There was no fight in him. Not with her lips rising up to meet his.

They pressed together, not roughly, but with a tenderness that made his breath catch. Their lips moved over one another as smoothly as silk. With every movement he willed Daenerys to feel what he now did. A desire deeper than lust and an urge that empowered and weakened all at once.

He was in love.

The realization came on as suddenly as their kiss was broken, as the pair was forced apart by the large furry form of Grey Wind.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Robb’s voice broke through the haze. His cousin was standing nearby, scratching his head with a bemused expression on his face. “Your father is looking for you, coz’. It’s time. You should say your farewells.”

“No, don’t,” Daenerys stepped back from him, her touch slipping away. “Let us leave it at this. With your promise and mine,” she held up the pin, “that all this shall keep until we meet again.”

“So it shall,” he sounded breathless and this inspired some giggles among the princess’s minders. With a nod to them and a bow to his betrothed, he did the impossible. He turned away from Daenerys.

A few difficult steps later, Robb and Grey Wind closed in around him and led Jon into the Baratheon caravan.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Robb teased lightly, shaking his shoulder. “I’m jealous, Jon. At least when you kiss your princess, you know you’ve got a lifetime of it ahead of you. Ysilla and I are still waiting for our fathers to sort out our betrothal.”

He offered a sympathetic grunt, feeling quite out of sorts. His father certainly looked the part when they found him. The lord was seated upon a large hickory gelding, his tunic and riding leathers stretched taught across his muscular yet bulky form.

“That last cup of wine was a mistake,” father grumbled, his red and puffy face already sweating from the sun. “The second and third last, too.”

Stepping out from the tower, the Lord of Storm’s End was dressed for a ride. Father’s tunic and riding leathers were stretched taught beneath his muscular yet bulky form. His face, red and puffy from last night’s drink, cringed at the bright sunlight.

“Should I fetch a wagon for you, my lord?” Robb asked and Lord Robert cursed.

“Seven hells, no. If I wanted to be cooped up in a moving coffin feeling miserable, I’d join Stannis and Selyse.”

“Let’s pray Edric fares better in his,” Jon said as their man, Harys, helped him atop a dark courser. “It’ll be hard going for him, father, but he’ll not complain. Not if it risks disappointing you.

“Tough and proud. He’s got the makings of a fine soldier,” the lord sat up in his horse and raised an arm. “Let’s be away! I want to be well into the Kingswood before making camp!”

None wasted any time in serving Lord Robert’s will. Robb was soon ahorse, riding with the lord’s retainers as they galloped to the head of the column now marching out of the yard. Wagon wheels clattered over stone, oxen and mules bellowed with effort, and the Baratheon banners flapped in the breeze.

Daenerys watched them go. He waved to her as he passed, and upon noticing she had donned his pin over her heart, he put his hand to his own.

She was not the only watching. Above on the ramparts, he spied the Dragonseye following their progress. Riding past the Maidenvault, he thought he could see dark shapes behind its windows and wondered if Queen Shaena was one. The king had formally seen them off the night before, yet Jon thought to glimpse Rhaegar staring down at him from a lonely tower. In a blink, the vision was gone and he thought himself likely mistaken.

They passed by others too. The Red Viper. Lord Tarly. Ser Alliser Thorne. A couple he wished had stayed back. Like Lord Jon Connington, who stood proudly with the badge of the Hand pinned to his chest. Lord Robert chose that moment to loudly break wind, laughing at how the griffin frowned.

Theon Greyjoy was laughing too, leaning on his bow and smirking up at Jon.

“Sorry to see you go, Lion Maimer,” Theon called to him. “Should I see your wolf, I’ll be sure to send your regards along with my arrows.”

It was Robb’s turn to laugh, “Not likely, Greyjoy. Your family should change their words to ‘we cannot hunt for shit.’”

The jest earned roars of laughter from Lord Robert and the men. Still, there was no missing Renly awaiting them near the gatehouse. He was draped in green finery, with no less than five stewards attending to him.

“Fear not, brother. You might be leaving, but House Baratheon’s voice will ring strong on the Small Council.”

Father gave a slight wave and when Jon did the same, a smug look crossed Renly’s face.

“Nephew, do wish me luck. Soon I too hope to have the ear of the king.”

Jon was puzzled by that, and noticed that his father had turned about in his saddle to regard him in an odd manner. He only stopped as they rode through the main castle gate, clearing the spikes of the raised gates and crossing the drawbridge to begin their descent through the city.

They were halfway done Aegon’s High Hill when Lord Robert beckoned Jon to his side.

“You’re lucky my head’s pounding else I would’ve sorted you out before we left,” father grumbled. “What business do you have meeting with Rhaegar in secret?”

“My lord?”

“Don’t play the fool. One of Renly’s men swears you and Rhaegar met on some balcony last night. I checked with Stannis and he said you were gone from the feast for a time.”

“Why are my uncles spying on me?” he asked, feeling anger boiling up in him, but father was having none of it.

“Dammit, Jon. Answer me.”

“I wasn’t meeting with the king. I left the feast with another and the king interrupted us. Yes, he talked to me for a while, but I took my leave in short order.”

“What did that man have to say to you?” Robert pressed and Jon hesitated. He felt no desire to lie to his father on King Rhaegar’s behalf, yet he was sure the truth would only complicate things.

“It was nothing, father…” he started, “the king did nothing wrong. He only sought reassurances that I had not acted improperly with my companion.”

“And who was that?”

“Princess Daenerys,” Jon replied hesitantly. “I swear I took no liberties and said the same to the king. We were only looking at the stars-”

“The stars he says!” the lord let out a bellowing laugh. “I’ve led many a lady away to look at stars myself. Pretty sure that’s how Mya came about… Rhaegar didn’t catch you trying to plant your seed in that girl did he?”

“It’s like I said. We were just looking at the stars. Well… we did hold hands for a time.”

“You didn’t have the courage to kiss her?” Father acted aghast and Jon flushed.

“Not then, no,” he admitted. “Only during our goodbye just now.”

“That’s my boy,” Father’s arm crossed the distance between them, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m sorry I pressed so hard. The pain in my head, Renly being a pain in my arse, and any time Rhaegar’s involved… it muddles my senses. Tell me Rhaegar didn’t have the nerve to chide you? After what he did at Harrenhal-”

“He didn’t, father. All ended well.”

“Gods be good, I’m glad this trip is at end,” the lord spat at the cobbled road they ambled over. “Drank every wine worth tasting, visited every brothel and enjoyed every wench worth the coin. I’m done with this city. With that blasted court and the bloody dragons too. Storm’s End awaits us, lad.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Jon said yet he could not help but look back up towards the Red Keep. Father caught him doing so and exhaled loudly.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re done here. Bet you’re wanting to turn around ride now and try your skill at dragon-riding.”

“Don’t speak of Daenerys like that,” he snapped. Lord Robert bristled, yet whatever reproach the lord meant to give died away.

“You’re right. If anybody spoke that way of my Lyanna, they’d be getting more than harsh words,” father stroked his beard in thought. “We’ve had plenty of those flying between us lately. More than I liked. More than I wanted when I came here. Things were to be better this time around. I hoped to find a way to do right by you. By your mother, too. To give you a taste of the life I wanted with her.”

The lord paused then, swallowing deeply.

“So have I?” Lord Robert asked, his bright blue eyes searching Jon’s face. “Have I done right by you, son?”

“Yes, father,” Jon straightened, so his father could see the man he was and not the boy he’d been. “I did not make it easy for you. I’ve thought wrong of you on so many things… but in Daenerys you were right. I love her, father. You gave me the chance to feel so. For that, I owe you so much. I love y-”

“Bah!” the lord called out, looking away from him suddenly. “When did we become as soft as women? It’s this bloody city. Owes me. You owe an old warrior some peace. Like a proper hunt! Back in our lands. My boy and I… no. No, two men now. That’s how it will be. Let’s hurry that along!”

His father gave a laugh and kicked at his horse, urging it on ahead. The lord’s glance back at him told Jon all he needed to know. They were to race.

So they did.

It caused quite the stir on the streets of the city, people darting here and there to avoid the two men galloping by. Jon felt guilty for that, but he could not deny his father this.

Their race ended outside the River Gate. The pair argued over whom truly won, sharing a skin of water as a raft carried them across the Blackwater to the south bank where the Kingsroad lay and the Kingswood loomed.

At the edge of the dark forest, they waited for the others to arrive. They were still facing the river when their horses became spooked. That was the only warning Ghost gave them before the white wolf emerged from among the trees with mute boldness.

And when Jon leapt down to embrace his friend, he thought of Daenerys.

Praying their reunion could be as sweet.

 

 


	7. Journeys and Reunions

**A Year of Plenty  
** **_Reflections on the House Targaryen following the Baratheon rapprochement, as recorded by Grand Maester Benedict for the Archmaesters of the Conclave_ **

_In the year since the betrothal of three of its members, House Targaryen reaped a harvest of good tidings._

_The royal family welcomed the long absent Prince Aemon to the capital. A Maester of the Citadel and sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, the elder prince became the king’s chief counsel regarding the Wall. Although rumors persisted that the king grew to rely on Aemon’s wisdom in all things, even above those of his Hand and Small Council._

_Far more celebrated was the return of Princess Visenya and her entourage to court after a lengthy tour of the Free Cities. After many delays, most caused by the princess herself, Prince Viserys was dispatched from Dragonstone to Volantis. Upon his arrival, the prince showed uncharacteristic diligence, wasting little time in collecting the wayward princess and ferrying her home._

_Thankfully, they returned in time to witness the blessing of the newest members of House Targaryen. The Mother Above surely smiled on Prince Jaehaerys and Lady Lynesse, for they were gifted not one, but two daughters. The twin princesses were presented in the Sept of Baelor as Rhaella and Shaera, in honor of queens past. They were honored in turn, as King Rhaegar and Queen Shaena each held a babe for the customary anointment in the seven oils._

_While a grand ceremony in its own right, it could not rival the splendor displayed at Highgarden during the Tourney of the Royal Rose. With contests of chivalry and martial skill, Lord Tyrell lavishly celebrated his daughter’s betrothal to Aegon the Younger. In this, the dragons triumphed again. The Dragonseye emerged as victor of a fierce melee while Aegon the Younger defeated Ser Loras Tyrell to take the joust. Thus, to the cheers of many, did Prince of Dragonstone name his betrothed, the Lady Margaery, as Queen of Love and Beauty._

_If only the whole year had been filled with such splendid successes. Sadly, as the smallfolk know well, every harvest faces its share of blights. The royal family’s was no different._

_The king’s brother, Aegon the Elder, continued to scorn the royal court. He divided his time between his own holdings in the Reach and the court of his goodfather, Lord Tywin, in the Westerlands, hosting feasts in his halls and offering coin and counsel to any loyal lord who sought it. Many lamented that this able and genial prince no longer advised the king on matters such as royal reforms or the Inquiry. The flawed nature of these endeavours inspired ire among several powerful lords, chief among them those of Casterly Rock and Storm’s End._

_Thankfully, the worst event occurred far from the realm. Across the Narrow Sea, the newest Blackfyre Pretender had led the Golden Company into war. Siding with Tyrosh against a Lyseni-Myrish alliance, the pretender sacked Myr. After proclaiming himself King Daemon, the Fourth of His Name, the false king made no effort to set sail for the Seven Kingdoms. Instead, his army quit Myr, fleeing into the Disputed Lands where all loyal subjects prayed they would succumb to disease or hunger._

_As troubling as these developments were, most at court felt confident in calling it a prosperous year for the crown. With the royal vaults in good order, the ports and markets bustling with trade, and peace reigning across the realm, the time has come for the royal family to come together._

_To rejoice in the marriage of Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun, and Visenya Targaryen, Princess of the Blood and Daughter to the King. The first of three unions intended to ensure the power of House Targaryen and the peace and tranquility of the realm..._

 

 **DAENERYS  
** _The God’s Eye_

The sunlight set the lake to shimmering before her, with specks of gold flickered across its blue-green surface. The God’s Eye put the filthy Blackwater to shame, its water so fresh and full of life she could smell it.

Dany wasn’t the only one enjoying the lake. A group of horses were whinnying happily as they sated their thirst. Beyond them were serving folk filling pots and washing clothes. Squires were stripping down for a swim as hounds barked and darted at the ducks amongst the reeds. One of the dogs splashed Talla and Gael as it frollicked, interrupting their questioning of a trio of newly arrived knights to the progress.

Three more bodies joining a party so enormous it could pass as a small army. Behind her hundreds were raising a makeshift village which would be gone by daybreak.

This was House Targaryen on the move.

“I wonder if the water feels as lovely as it looks,” she said to her armored protector. “Let’s pray there’s time for a swim.”

“You’ll catch a chill,” Daeron chided, removing a gauntlet to wipe at his sweaty brow.

“In this heat? I’ll melt first. It’s maddening that you can bear armor at all,” she replied. “Perhaps I’ll feign drowning. You could free yourself of that steel to rescue me. You’ll get a swim and be a hero all at once.”

“Don’t you dare. Dragons don’t fare well in the God’s Eye. Didn’t your tutors ever teach you of the battle here? A prince of green and one of black, both atop their dragons. Over this water they met and did dance above the lake-”

“Daemon upon Caraxes. Aemond One-Eye riding Vhagar. They died. Only not here,” she pointed north over the lake’s endless waters. “They fought at Harrenhal and we’re nowhere close to it. You should’ve paid attention to your lessons.”

“Didn’t have to. My teachers were afraid of me. I was ugly in spirit long before my face caught up, Silverbright.”

“You’re terrible.”

“My little sister is wise beyond her years,” he kicked a rock into the shallows and grumbled a curse. “So it’s safe to say our quarry isn’t around here. We ought to keep looking. Riding off already put Shaena in a foul mood. Any more disappointments and our lovely queen will deny me that moonlight swim I hope for.”

“You just told me not to swim here!”

He winked, “I like to push my luck.”

She swatted at his chest plate. To that Daeron snatched hold of Dany’s waist and feigned throwing her into the lake. Their laughter drew many a stare but she cared not. They hadn’t been together in months. After the visit with Jon at Wendwater Keep, Daeron had ridden off. Keeping the king’s peace here and there, checking on the work at Summerhall, winning glories at Highgarden. Always somewhere else.

Leaving Daenerys to tend with their family. A task which grew more and more burdensome.

Too often it fell to her to try and keep peace between the queen and the princess. Visenya did not welcome her upcoming wedding to Edmure Tully and Shaena often took the brunt of those protests. The closer they came to Riverrun, the more frequent the arguments became. Truly, she had come to prefer the wailing of Jay’s twins to the angry words between mother and daughter.

Unsurprisingly, another row had erupted during the midday ambling that the queen had invited the princesses and their ladies on. Shaena’s attempt to break the monotony of the wheelhouses by taking in the countryside had quickly descended into more acrimony.

When people talked of Shaena, they would speak of her refined features. Visenya had a softer look than her mother, her eyes especially. They were large, round pools which looked purple or blue depending on the light. Before her easterly travels, Visenya’s fuller figure had set her apart from Shaena and Dany. Now it was her hair, which her niece had taken to dying a striking pink, defying any notion of changing it back.

Dany had been riding close enough to catch Shaena glaring at those pink braids when Visenya brought her horse alongside the queen’s.

“I’m not being unreasonable,” Visenya had said in a poor attempt at whispering. “Why must I wait so long? Torn from Volantis and now court as well. Banished from the world itself. This marriage is an exile by another name.”

“Riverrun is not some backwater,” Shaena had lectured. “By river or road, many a visitor will come your way. It is the host that makes a hall grand, not the hall itself.”

“How would you know? You’ve never lived anywhere but court. Please, if I must marry this man, have us come back with you. Father need only name Lord Tully to some grand appointment after the wedding and-”

“No. Hoster Tully died barely half a year ago. The new lord paramount needs time to show off his new bride to his bannermen. The riverlords are a divided lot more oft than not. Able and firm, Lord Hoster managed to shepherd them together for the rebels. Edmure could do the same, this time for our benefit. If we drag him off at court, he’ll lose sway in these lands at a key time. No, for now Edmure Tully does us more good at Riverrun. As will you.”

Visenya had scoffed at that and a red flush of anger crossed Shaena’s face.

“Daughter, you’re blood of the dragon. Our ancestors made these lands our realm. You can make Riverrun your home. Your father long gave your way to most of your whims, now you must accept his will in this. Find the good in it. Charm your husband and his riverlords. Once both are yours, you will return to the capital a power in your own right. Giving Lord Edmure an heir would go a long way…”

“I am not a brood mare!” Visenya’s outburst had drawn the attention of everyone within earshot. “How many friends did I win us in the Free Cities? Now I’ll never see them again. There was power there I might have harnessed for us. All I learned of those lands will be useless. This riverlord will have no use of such culture. The depths, the refinement. As close to Old Valyria as there is…”

“Then teach him!”

“Send him a tutor! Not your only daughter,” Visenya’s voice had faltered, lowering from rage to despair. “Mother… my queen, you raised me for better.”

“And I thought I raised you better. Sadly we have both met disappointment. Hold your father to account for that.”

The argument only grew more heated before Daeron came to her rescue. He had ridden up to the other side of the column and beckoned Dany to him. It had been an easy thing to slip away, the others ladies had been too focused on the dueling mother and daughter.

She and Daeron rode all the way to head of the march and stayed there. They were among the first to reach the God’s Eye and the field they’d settle upon. There Dany spied an apple tree and stood upon Daeron’s shoulders to pick some of the bright red bounty from its heavy limbs. Under their shade, Dany had dozed against her brother’s chest like she was a child again.

The day was nearly saved until Gael and Talla came upon them. Much of the party had already arrived and apparently Dany and her knight had not been the only ones to run off on the queen.

“Do you think Princess Visenya could ride back to King’s Landing?” Gael asked as they strode along the lake’s edge.

“If the queen thought so, we would be the last search party she’d use,” Talla shook her head. “Use sense, Gael. Two ladies, a princess, with only one knight between us.”

“One remarkable knight, you mean,” Daeron said, eyeing their surroundings. “It would be a hopeless thing for Visenya to try. Shaena gave orders to the rear guard to be wary of any fleeing brides to be.”

“A poor jest, ser,” Talla offered, her face dropping as a glance from Daeron’s fouler eye made her reconsider. “To break a betrothal in so shameful a way. I cannot imagine a princess ever doing such a thing.”

“Shaena can,” Daeron grumbled, his bluntness making her uneasy.

“Visenya isn’t foolish. She’s upset. Scared,” she said as they neared the woods. “Whenever she felt so back home, I remember where she’d go. There’s a special sort of calm she’d seek.”

Dany could picture Visenya in the Red Keep, standing at the window of her favorite tower. The one with the best view of waves crashing in from Blackwater Bay. She’d found it as a child, yet Visenya had sought it more and more in the days before leaving the Red Keep. Trying to find some peace for herself in those dark, constant waves.

Those of the God’s Eye were barely ripples in comparison. Yet it appeared they would serve for their wayward princess.

Visenya’s sanctuary proved to be a wooded  cove upon the lakeshore. It was around a felled tree that Visenya and her companions had settled.

Dany’s niece was seated upon a fallen tree, surrounded by her ladies. She noted Gerra Grafton and Gwen Sunglass, daughters of noted loyalists, and Talena Maegyr, the newest of their number and a niece to a Triarch of Volantis. Finally there was the lady Visenya always kept closest, for Nymeria Sand had known Visenya the longest, despite her being no true lady.

Lady Nym was bastard born, and only styled so as a courtesy to her father and due to her standing with Visenya. Tall, slender, and gifted with her father’s dark charm, Nym always overshadowed the rest of Visenya’s entourage.

Even the knight keeping watch over them all.

“Hello there!” Ser Richard Lonmouth greeted them cheerily, the kindly, fair-haired knight waving as he walked away from four guardsmen tending the horses.

“We’ve been found out, then. I figured you’d be on us sooner than this, my prince,” Richard offered his hand to Daeron.

“My name will do, as always,” Daeron said as he took the offered hand. “And it was Daenerys who led us here. Guess I’m getting old.”

Richard laughed, grasping Daeron’s shoulder warmly.

“I feel the same some days. Let’s hope we’ll be wiser for it,” he smiled at Daeron, giving his shoulder a gentle shake before bowing to Dany. “One princess hunting down another. A rare thing I imagine.”

“More like a dragon hunting a dragon,” Gael added.

“This lake is becoming known for it,” Dany, noting that Visenya refused to look their way. “How long does she expect to stay here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Richard admitted. “I travelled across half the Free Cities with Visenya. Getting her to do as she should is trial enough. Knowing what’s in her mind… seven save me. There’s a lot of Rhaegar in her. “

_Rhaegar should be the one dealing with this. Not me. Not Daeron. Nor Shaena._

_That would be asking too much. Only one earns the king’s attention these days._

Since there was slim chance of Rhaegar arriving, she and Daeron went on alone to where Visenya sat upon the mossy log, petting an old mangy cat.

“Ladies, please excuse us,” Daeron commanded in a tone few ever defied. Visenya’s friends did as they were bid, save for Lady Nym.

“I did not hear my princess telling me to leave her side,” the Dornish lady rose to her feet, yet made no move to depart.

“Nor will I,” Visenya took Nym’s hand, addressing Daeron as she stared out into the water. “Uncle. Did my parents send you to prevent any escape?”

“This was no escape. That harp of yours wouldn’t be back in camp if it had been. You’ve dragged it everywhere since Rhaegar gave you the thing. Around the world and back. It’s held up better than that beast.”

To that, Meraxes hissed at Daeron, flicking his tail in his usual display of disdain towards the knight.

“We are fine here, uncle. Say what you will but I shall not leave until I wish to. I still have that much freedom.”

“Not so much as you think. Come now, don’t make me carry you.”

“You did so to a child long ago. What shall come next? Will you threaten to shave Meraxes?”

Daeron chuckled yet Visenya showed no cheer at the memory, turning about and glaring at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“Those games worked on a little girl. Barely. I’m a woman grown, ser.”

“You’re not acting it.”

Dany’s words drew Visenya’s attention. She hadn’t intended to speak so harshly yet the moment called for it. Once she had been where Visenya was, arguing against a match made without her say. Shaena had helped her accept what was to be. A match she cherished now above all else, and Visenya threatened not only that, but their own family.

“We were never going to choose our matches. The king decides. That was a lesson you taught me when we’d be at play-”

“And I comforted your worries by talking of how such matches would be sensible. How they would make us better. That they’d mean something.”

“Becoming the wife of a lord paramount will mean all that and more.”

“No. No, maybe once I could’ve thought so,” Visenya looked to Nym. “If you knew the world beyond the Seven Kingdoms. The Free Cities… that’s where we belong. The blood of Old Valyria. It’s in us, Daenerys. And it’s rich throughout those lands. We’ve forgotten what we could be. There is so much they can do for us. So much I could do there…”

“It will feel the same at Riverrun after time,” Dany assured her niece. “I wasn’t happy when Jon and I were matched. Then I came to know him... and it all made sense. Edmure Tully could turn out to be every bit the gift Jon has been to me.”

“I’ll never want him,” Visenya spoke sharply, causing Meraxes to leap away as his master rose and clutched Dany’s arms. Her niece’s eyes were wide and gleaming with hurt as she beseeched her.

“I am glad for you, little one. I am. May you be happy with your betrothed and live long, happy lives together. So I beg you, don’t let your happiness eclipse my own misery. The east opened my eyes to the world and soon it will be hidden away behind a bridal veil. Along with my tears.”

“You won’t weep,” Nym touched at Visenya’s back to whisper in her ear. “Not where others can see. Save your tears for those of us who love you. As you do your joy.”

“Those sound like mother’s words,” Visenya sighed, pulling away from them both. “I hate how she acts like a queen has no sway. If mother only pressed in my favor-”

“Nonsense,” Daeron stated. “Shaena chose Tully out of love for you. To spare her daughter what she was forced into. Our mother as well. You’re free of that ugly tradition because of her.”

Visenya wheeled about, jabbing a finger at Daeron.

“So I shall be forced into bed with a backwater rebel instead of mine own uncle. A terrible contest of miseries. Tell me, Uncle, do you thank the gods that grandfather pushed you down the Iron Throne rather than impaling you upon it?”

She missed Daeron’s reaction to that. Her mind was racing at what she’d just heard. Visenya was meant to wed one of her uncles? Besides Daeron, there was only one of their brothers left unmarried.

“You were to marry Viserys?” she choked out and recoiled with disgust when Visenya nodded.

“I’m not surprised you didn’t know. Mother only told me of it to push me into accepting this farce.”

Such a threat would’ve terrified Dany, for marrying Viserys was one of her oldest fears. She’d even had nightmares of it, ones of such powerful ugliness they made her skin crawl even now.

“But why? There’s no sense to it.”

“There rarely is to prophecies,” Nym said with scorn. “If the king had his way ‘Senya would’ve married your brother because of prophecy. The child of a king matched to the king’s brother. Or something like that.”

“Rhaegar came around,” Daeron argued. “We made him see reason. I expect the same of you. Your mother has worked as hard as any to keep this house in order. Trust in Shaena.”

“Why not trust in me?” Visenya gestured at the distant Ser Richard. “Ask him. Have Richard speak to it. I nearly had our greatest foe entrapped with no army or council to depend on. If I’d been left where I was Myr never would have fallen-”

“Quiet yourself!” Daeron snarled, eyes darting between Dany and the others standing off and away.

“Remember my father’s words,” Nym urged Visenya. “That blade is double edged, dear.”

_What’s happening here? Myr was sacked by the pretender. What could Visenya have to do with that travesty?_

“Enough of this,” Daeron stepped forward to tower over Visenya in such a foreboding manner it took Dany aback. “You’re marrying that man. Same as Aegon will marry his match and Daenerys hers. Had my mother lived, she could make you weep with talk of true sacrifices. Now unless you’re willing to forsake your birthright and your family, make your peace with it. You’re welcome to sit your arse on this log all night if that’s what it takes. Act a bloody dragon or be gone.”

With silent grace, Nym came between them then. Her dark eyes narrowed on Daeron and one hand tensed at her side. There was talk Nym hid blades on her person, yet if she meant to draw one the chance never came. Visenya embraced the lady, resting her forehead against Nym’s cheek.

“It’s so easy for you to say these things,” Visenya rasped. “The prince who wished to live by the sword. No forced matches for you, Uncle. You have everything you ever wanted.”

“Not everything,” Daeron rasped. “You have no notion-”

“Just go. You allowed me some time here on my own terms. That’s all I sought in the first place. So go and leave me to it.”

The defeat in Visenya’s words was plain and painful to hear. They had won this battle, yet Dany took no joy in the victory. Nor did Daeron,for he hesitated to do as Visenya bid, a familiar look of shame crossing his face. She’d seen it whenever some small child wept at the sight of his eye. To her, the ugliness he’d shown to Visenya was far worse.

“Daeron, stand guard over there,” she gestured to Ser Richard and the rest. “Send a man back to camp to tell Shaena we have her. That ought to earn you a moonlight swim.”

“The Seven know I could use a bath right now,” Daeron ran a hand down his face, marching away as Nym eased Visenya down onto the felled tree again. Her eyes followed Daeron warily the whole while.

“It might serve to tell Richard he’s not the only one seeking a swim tonight. If he were to share his wine and the lake with the Dragonseye it may serve to make that brutal thing more amiable.”

Dany shook her head, “He’d take the wine, but not the company. Daeron’s very picky about who he spends time with.”

Nym laughed wryly.

“I very much doubt you know whom the Dragonseye prefers.”

“Stop, Nym,” Visenya warned weakly. “That too is a double-edged sword. As for you, Daenerys, please do sit by me would you? Let us strike a balance between utter misery and true love.”

“Don’t mock me,” she sat beside Visenya, who took to running her fingers through Dany’s hair.

“I do not. Truly. Any who watch when you speak of Jon Baratheon can see the love there. I take it there was no sign of his party today?”

There hadn’t been. The last few days there’d been growing anticipation that other parties headed to the wedding might join theirs. Aegon was travelling from Highgarden. Egg was said to be on the move from the west. Then there was Jay coming from Summerhall. Some thought it likely the Baratheons might cross his path. Or theirs.

“Aegon won’t take our route. Not without reason,” Visenya said. “With his party coming from Highgarden, they’ll be to the other side of the lake. I mean he could always take a ship...”

“He wouldn’t,” she said, for Talla had already reasoned at that.

“Aegon feels idle on the water,” her friend had said. “He feels trapped on ships. He’d rather ride across the realm and back. Born to the throne and the saddle, he’d tell me that after our rides. No matter how far he rode aheard, he’d always be waiting at the end. Always.”

As Dany recounted Talla’s insights, Visenya looked the lady’s way with a touch of sympathy.

“My brother is too charming by half. Let’s hope he’s learned to temper his charm with good sense. His smiles carry more weight than most. And he smiles too often. Too freely.”

“Jon Baratheon doesn’t have such issues,” Nym said absently. “My father called your betrothed a sullen sort. More likely to break wind than to smile.”

“Jon smiles when there’s good reason. He’s honest like that.”

“Quite unlike his Uncle Renly then” Visenya mused. “Would that I had been matched to him. Renly and I might’ve come to an arrangement. At least we would live in the capital. If I cannot have the Free Cities, King’s Landing would do. Alas, I get the one rebel not invited to court.”

Nymeria exhaled loudly, “It would have been a folly. Renly’s situation is temporary. Lord Robert has struck a deal with the king, once Daenerys and his son are wed, the heir will take his uncle’s place on the council.”

Both women then looked at her in a questioning manner. It was the truth. One she had felt better shared with Visenya at another time. Perhaps Nym was right for sparing Visenya from the delusion. What was right and wrong was becoming harder to discern on this journey.

“Well, little one. You have been doubly blessed. Marrying for love and being spared an ouster from our home. It is no surprise. My parents have always loved you like a daughter. I never knew you were the daughter they loved most.”

The accusation cut deep and guilt gripped her heart. Not because Dany thought Visenya right. Only that a small part of her felt grateful that it was this way.

_Rhaegar and Shaena are the only parents I’ve ever known._

_Would my true parents have ever done so well by me?_

“‘Senya, stop. This was Lord Robert’s doing, not your parents. I swear that it is Storm’s End where I wish to make my home. The rest of you can have the Red Keep for I want it not.”

“How can you be so certain? You’ve never even set eyes upon Storm’s End.”

“No, but I know that the worst moments that Jon and I have had were in the capital. The best were away from it. Leaving home behind, it means leaving behind our family’s demons too.”

Visenya gazed at Dany as if she was mad before promptly putting her face in her hands.

“By the Seven, what a mess,” she laughed, and though her face was hidden behind a wall of pink locks, Dany knew it was not a cheerful sound. “I wish to stay, you wish to leave. Here I thought old Uncle Aemon begging to be returned to the Wall summed up how ridiculous our family could be.”

Nym nudged Visenya then. “Just wait, my dear. This wedding may yet win out.”

While Visenya offered what sounded like a genuine laugh, Dany was still reflecting on their words. Making a new home in Storm’s End would make her happy, yet she had hope that whatever arrangements were made, she and Jon could overcome.

Her time at Wendwater fuelled most of her hopes.

 _Wendwater Keep,_ she smiled at the name.

Tucked away within the Kingswood, the small castle was named after the river that flowed by it.  She could hear the lazy current of the Wendwater now. Smell the rich, earthy scent of the forest and the feel of the damp moss which grew upon the walls. Truly, her time there had the best part of a long year.

To celebrate his nameday, the castle’s lord had opened his hall for feasts and frolicking. Rhaegar would’ve ignored the invitation if not for Gael. Being the lord’s niece, she was to join her father at the celebration, and had overheard Ser Baldric discussing the other attendees.

“You must come, Dany. My uncle would be honored,” Gael had gleefully pressed her. “More so even than he is to host Lord Baratheon’s heir! Truly! Father told me Jon Baratheon will be there!”

She wasted little time before beseeching Rhaegar to let her go in his stead. Even enlisting Daeron to intercede on her behalf. He volunteered to be her escort, claiming it would be good for her to be away from court for a time, even though it was he who sported bruises from a brutal sparring session with Jaime Lannister.

Her group arrived only day apart from Jon’s, and what followed was two of the happiest weeks of her life. Their reunion was a sweet one, made all the better by the air of celebration and good company. Robb Stark and Edric Storm encouraged the pair in every bit of merriment, made easier by her ladies. Elinor would regale the hall with her harp, allowing Gael and Talla to call for many a dance which more often than not involved Jon leading Dany to the floor, hand in hand. Daeron gave Jon and Robb a wide berth, offering the rare small smile at her joy.

She was also happy indeed to meet Gendry Waters and Mya Stone. Jon’s half-siblings may have been bastards but the four were closer siblings than many trueborn ones. They seemed as decent and loving as anyone could want in a brother and sister, and she welcomed the thought of them as kin.

When Dany had said as much to Jon, he acted as if she had presented him some grand gift. The one he gave her then had been far sweeter, and her lips burned at the memory of such.

Until Rhaegar’s face broke into her thoughts. It could not be more out of place, looking as sad and defeated as the king did. It was the very expression Rhaegar had born when he granted her permission to go to Wendwater in his place. The disappointment had come after Rhaegar was convinced against going to Wendwater himself.

Rhaegar had remained unconcerned in her arguments, until Jon’s name was mentioned.  Everything changed after that.

It had been an odd thing to witness, her somber brother suddenly becoming alive at the idea of visiting such a small occasion. Rarely had she seen such a smile upon his face at the prospect of the visit, and in his excitement he sent a summons to Ser Barristan in order to prepare for the journey.

Until another voice brought all of his efforts to an abrupt close.

“A folly,” Maester Aemon had declared to Rhaegar, the sightless old man having risen shakily from the corner of the king’s solar. “You have brought me against my will. Against my oaths. All to seek my wisdom. Well hear it now. This is a terrible folly.”

“Kings can call upon their vassals,” Rhaegar had argued, sounding desperate before the shrunken old man. “If any call it odd, I can call on other castles in the area. There’s a sea of reasons.”

“So weak that you’re just as likely to drown as be saved by them. This is an act of want, not wisdom. The peril of which is a lesson you claimed to have learned.”

“Uncle, this is the sort of opportunity we discussed…”

“A folly. Not as bad as your worst… which will not be healed by committing another.”

Aemon was as frail a man as she’d ever laid eyes upon. He was dependent on the aid of others to guide his way through a castle he’d not called home since the reign of her grandfather’s grandfather. Though the ancient prince had a voice as soft as a light breeze, it managed to bring the king to heel, which left Daeron and her in stunned silence.

After a few moments of defeated silence, Rhaegar had given his blessing for her travels. His tone as dark as if delivering a death sentence.

His foul mood had lasted months. Only lifting as they began their preparations for Riverrun. That Rhaegar could be in high spirits even as those of his beloved daughter crumbled only made such strange behavior more troubling.

So while Visenya could jest about Aemon wishing to be elsewhere, Dany was glad he had rejoined their family.

_If he can steady Rhaegar, we’re all better for it._

_And let whatever past follies they spoke of be the worst of them._

 

 **  
****THEON**  
_The River Road_

Their hunt was over. He never thought he would be so happy to see the Hound.

Sunset was fast approaching yet even by the failing light Sandor Clegane’s helm was hard to miss. Truly, the snarling steel face of a beast was an improvement on the man within. Theon urged his horse on, outpacing the other riders around him. Straight on into a grassy clearing where scores of tents and several large pavilions denoted a party of some import.

Theon might have been impressed, had he not been a part of king’s procession. He’d left that small army behind days past, riding off into the riverlands in search of dragons. There were surely some here, and the most blatant clue to that was the massive structure he spied the Hound near. Its canvas coverings painted gold and its body so wide that twin peaks rose up to support its roof. Upon each, he spied two banners flying. ‘

One displayed the Targaryen dragon spewing golden fire, the sigil of Aegon the Elder. The other bore the traditional royal coat of arms, save with a red border added.

Such simplicity undersold its importance. Afterall, an heir to a king comes before an uncle in all things.

_I hope my uncles remember that. If not, there is another heir who will help me remind them._

_My friend. And my best hope for_ _a_ _better_ _future_ _._

He reined up before the pavilion’s entrance, his horse kicking up dirt and rock towards the Hound and a score of guardsmen bearing Egg’s badge.

“Hello, Clegane. Keeping you chained up outdoors I see,” he smirked.

“Move aside, boy,” the Hound growled, gesturing behind him. “There be men coming along.”

The insult was twofold. Theon was a man grown and a future lord paramount. His companions were mostly an unimportant group of royal men-at-arms, his minders. All save one white-clad knight little more than a dog himself and an oathbreaker on top of that.

“My sister is within?” the Kingslayer asked, throwing his white cloak over his shoulder.

“Aye, she’s with the prince and the rest,” the Hound replied.

“Is the heir among that rest, dog?” he demanded and the steel face of a snarling dog slowly moved in his direction.

“If you weren’t property of the crown, I’d have you skewered on a spear, arse first. Your master’s heir is within. Not that it matters. I have no orders to let you pass.”

His face flushed, “I am the heir to the Iron Islands, so show me some respect, you-”

“Might as well be heir of my chamberpot for all it matters.”

“Let him pass, Clegane,” the Kingslayer said with a smile. “Or don’t. Speaking from experience, you’ll suffer more by barring him. He’ll be out here with you then.”

The Hound considered that and after a moment, he waved them towards a place to tie their horses. In a final act of disrespect, the scarred mutt refused to move for Theon’s horse. Shamefully, the beast did not challenge the armored brute, going around him as men snickered.

His mood now soured again. Only a week past. King Rhaegar had granted him leave to seek out the heir’s party, only to force the Kingslayer upon him as well. He cursed whoever had carried word that the two Aegons had merged their parties as they ventured from the Reach to Riverrun. Any suggestion on routes or jests offered allowed the disgraced knight a chance to to mock Theon or his family.

He almost wished it had been the Dragonseye he rode with.

Almost.

The inside of the tent made a better castle hall than most back on the isles. Warm and well-lit, music and the smell of food filled the air, with platters of smoking meat and fresh fruit strewn upon well-made oak tables set up and a raised dais towards the middle. Candles hanging from the beams illuminated the vibrant colors of many a banner tied above. Most came from houses of the westerlands and reach, the same being said for most of those within. It was anyone’s guess to which Aegon each held loyalty to.

He spotted Aegon the Elder first. Egg was seated at a ornate head table, between a very bored-looking Joffrey and a distracted Cersei. She was a handsome woman still, and Theon would gladly bed her. Half for the pleasure and the rest for the affront to the dragons and lions both.

The commotion before the high table drew his eye. There a bard was plucking at his lute while some others clapped along, a Kingsguard knight among them. Ser Osric Waters bore a passenger upon his shoulders, namely the young Prince Tommen, clapping like a fool. In the heart of merriment, was his quarry, Aegon the Heir.

Taller than he remembered, Aegon was not yet the giant Prince Jaehaerys was. The prince’s well-muscled build belied a grace apparent in how he leapt about in a dance with his cousin. Aegon’s thick head of pale blond hair bounced here and there as he led Myrcella through a complicated series of steps. With her golden curls princess was a pretty young thing, enough so that he could see himself wedding her one day. In the old times he use ship and sword to carry Myrcella off to wed, an easy enough thing to imagine with the soft spectacle these lot were making.

 _In_ _the halls of_ _my home isles men would duel or test their skill at contests which cost limbs._

_Even at rest we were harder than the greenlanders-_

“Kraken!”

The shout brought an end to the music and dancing both. Myrcella was caught mid twirl as the heir pointed directly at Theon, his face a grimace of disgust.

“Theon Greyjoy!” Aegon bellowed, walking towards him with determination. “You salt-ridden, son of Pyke. You blood-soaked reaver of the waves. You-”

“Ward to your father, the King!” Theon picked up on this old routine quick enough. “Friend to the dragon to come. Brother by fire-”

“If not by blood,” the heir wrapped him in a hug so tight Theon could barely breathe. “By the Warrior. It’s been years, Theon. I’d ask how many but your folk can’t count their own isles.”

“Show me how many kingdoms in your realm again.”

Smiling, the prince held up nine fingers tentatively. The laugh which escaped him was earnest, as was the second embrace Theon gave his oldest friend. He’d steeled himself for this reunion the past week. For months truly. Yet it was still hard to remember the ill will the dragons had earned, now that his brother stood before him again.

Aegon broke away suddenly, the moment dampened by the Kingslayer stepping forward to bow.

“Your Grace, the king wishes you well. We’re here to escort you on to River-”

“The prince has an escort,” Ser Osric stepped in, having taken Tommen off his shoulders at some point. The dark-haired Kingsguard stood in challenge to the Kingslayer, the youthful bastard’s expression full of such scorn that it bled into his words.

“Feel free to join your goodbrother’s guard if you wish to be of use, ser. I’ve no doubt the heir will be safer under my watch.”

“Lad, two Kingsguard are always better than one.”

“Depends on the man,” Osric replied. “Some are worthier than others.”

“Harsh words,” Aegon interceded. “Truthful ones often are. Better than those from a gilded tongue. Seek my uncle, Ser Jaime. As little as he loves you, he does like his golden decorations. There your sister awaits, ser.”

Theon smirked as the Kingslayer stiffly bowed and marched off, leaving him to bask in the affections of the upcoming power in the royal family. It was a short moment truly as others soon formed up around the heir. Some he knew, like Ser Justin Massey, an amiable man and follower of Aegon’s since boyhood, and Ser Gerold Dayne, the Darkstar, who had always inspired an uneasiness in Theon that he never cared for.

The newcomers were mostly reachmen, like the knights Mark Mullendore and Humfrey Hightower. After some quick introductions, Aegon made a show of summoning forth one handsome young knight in particular, one with such flowing brown hair he might’ve passed for a woman.

“This is my future goodbrother, Ser Loras Tyrell,” Aegon urged them to shake hands. “We must be quick at making you friends. Loras has some strong beliefs regarding your people, Theon.”

“I hold to the codes of chivalry,” Ser Loras shrugged. “Not those of rape and theft.”

_I’ve heard this song before. He sings it no better than those at court._

“Our ways are older than your codes. You have green pastures and wealth. We have rock, salt, and the harsh seas. Let our people switch places. Your soft ways would doom you. My people would rise up harder. Stronger.”

Aegon laughed, “You see, Loras. Theon likes nothing more than to challenge what we think of the Iron Islands. He’s wrong as often as he’s right but there’s few at court honest enough to say the wrong thing. There’s hope for him yet.”

The heir then sat him at a table, alone, first to reminisce and share pleasantries. Then the talk turned to the royal family and Theon told him all he could. They were a week off from Riverrun to Aegon’s three. He listed those travelling with the royal party, how Queen Shaena and Visenya quarrelled, and that the king kept his confidence in the blind, old dragon before all others.

Aegon listened with utmost interest, yet betrayed no surprise at what he heard.

“No need for a seer to know ‘Senya would oppose this match,” the prince mused as they shared some wine. “Had I been at court, I could have spoken out against it. Out of love rather than sense. My sister was worth that once. Truly, there’s a harsh fairness in this. Visenya’s meddling prevented any on her behalf.”

“You’re sure it was her?” he asked to which Aegon raised an eyebrow. “Alright, alright. Your sister should’ve kept her mouth shut about Talla. Your father actually suggested I marry the Tarly girl. Imagine that? Try to imagine a more mismatched pairing. No wait, I rode right upon one, didn’t I? You and Egg, travelling together? What happened?”

Aegon downed the rest of his wine and Theon followed his gaze to the high table where the Kingslayer was caught in the middle of a heated discussion between Egg and Cersei.

“My father did. Look at those men there, Theon. My uncle’s new men.”

His friend subtly drew his eyes to a group of armed men in mail. He named each in turn. Ser Preston Greenfield, a short man, Ser Philip Foote, one-eyed and severe looking, and Ser Ben Bushy, a tall amiable looking sort.

“Those three, on top of the Hound and Ser Daven Lannister. Quite the personal guard.”

“Still fewer than yours,” he was unimpressed, “Your uncle likely heard Viserys and Jay had taken on sworn swords of their own. He hates being out done.”

“That’s not what troubles him. Nor many others across the realm. It is my father that makes them afraid. That he is leading us into dark times.”

“You’re jesting,” he laughed, for whatever else he thought of Rhaegar, the realm was enjoying a prosperous peace, and the court and city streets rang with the king’s praise.

“The Inquiry is no jest. Outside the capital, it’s seen as a blind elephant, stumbling about, trampling those unlucky few in its path. My father’s reforms make it worse, riling up the smallfolk to challenge their betters. Then, when action is needed against the Blackfyre Pretender, he lifts not a finger.”

“Blame that blind old crow perching on his shoulder,” he replied, shocked at all the attention some ancient, useless man earned from the king.

“I worry more on the dragons he’s pushed away. Letting my uncle slip further into Tywin Lannister’s clutches was foolish.”

“Pushed deeper between Cersei’s legs more like.”

“You jest, but Aegon the Elder has influence. Even in his mock exile, many lords call on him. That is good for the Lannisters, for they think my uncle is theirs. I’m set on proving that doors swing both ways. That my uncle can be used to tame the lions.”

“Worry about the Martells. Or the Baratheons,” Theon spoke the last word with special malice. “They’re the names that ring out at court these days. Especially after Jon Baratheon got away with maiming Joffrey-”

“This again. Cersei never wastes a chance to have my poor cousin bare his scars and recount the whole ordeal. I pity the wolf, what a vile taste Joffrey must’ve left in its mouth,” Aegon pulled Theon close, turning his gaze towards a group of westermen. “A reaver like you should know to be weary of what lurks beneath the surface. Tywin Lannister sat out much of the rebellion waiting for his perfect moment. The old lion’s instincts were better than Lord Balon. Or Dagon and Dalton before that.”

He didn’t care for that. His family had fought well. One realm versus the rest and they’d won their share of victories. Why did no one ever acknowledge that at least?

Aegon nudged him then, “See me, friend. I’m not my grandfather, nor my father. I’ll not give the Tywin the chance to take advantage of me. I’ll use the most powerful tool he has for my own ends. Let the lions feel they’ve bought influence, right up until I slam the gates in their face.”

He couldn’t help but be impressed, “Living among the roses has changed you. What happened to the man who cared only for the attentions of the newest lady at court?”

“I care only for the finest lady there is and ever will be,” Aegon smiled at him. “Margaery helped open my eyes to such thinking. Perhaps wider than she meant. The Tyrells will be the backbone of my reign. Margaery shall be my queen, Loras a Kingsguard, Mace a master of this or that, oh I’ll satisfy them to a point. They’ll never command me though.”

“Are you so sure? You’re stopping shy of handing them the throne. Not that Mace Tyrell could ever climb the thing.”

Aegon laughed before calling for more wine, and after a servant filled their cups, he leaned in to smile in Theon’s face.

“All I’ll give will leave the roses with little reason to complain when I act for the good of the realm rather than for theirs alone. Such as when I supplant one of their bannermen as Master of Ships.”

“Baelor Hightower… but he was your mother’s choice. His sister is wed to your uncle.”

“When the throne is mine, I want it to be in good order. I’ll not repeat my father’s mistake and wait too long to play a role in the rule of the realm. I need mine own agents on the council even before it belongs to me. Egg can serve as a pawn. The Master of Ships shall be one I trust fully. I can think of no better man to command the fleets than one born to such a role.”

To that Aegon raised his cup at Theon, who was left gaping at the revelation.

“To the future Lord of the Iron Islands and Admiral of the Royal Fleet. My brother in all but blood.”

He racked his mind to think of the last person who had relied on him so. His mother, yet hers were the words of a begrieved woman mourning the loss of two older sons. More than his father had offered then or all the years that followed. Perhaps Rhaegar, yet his flowery praise was a shield to deny Theon a princess. He had committed himself to vengeance after that. To reap a better future for him and his people.

_To learn from my enemy. To grow close to them in any way I could._

_To rise high enough to drown them all in my vengeance._

Yet when Theon raised his cup, he fought to remember all his ill will. The way Aegon looked at him with such sincerity. How easily they had fallen into their old ways. That powerful urge to be a part of whatever his friend had planned. It was intoxicating.

“To the future King of the Seven Kingdoms. My brother by choice.”

“And all we will sow.”

 

 **JAIME  
** _The Bridal Camp_

He hated idleness nearly as much as false pleasantries. That made today a special kind of hell.

Egg’s lickspittles and grovellers were all gathered for a mid-day meal, sheltered from the sun under an open-air canopy. Treated to food and drink, they had a rather fine view of the banks of the Tumblestone and a little ways downriver, the castle of Riverrun itself.

Somehow Joffrey had become the entertainment, loosing quarrels at a target across an empty meadow. Nearby the sun battered the Hound, his sweat-streaked face fearsome and full of loathing.

Jaime’s mood might have matched Clegane’s ugliness, if not for Cersei. She was close enough to touch. His sister sat at her own table, with only Myrcella, Tommen, and their aunt Genna. He stood behind her back, close enough to touch. Gods, did she test him. A circlet of rubies sat round her perfect brow and lush, golden curls, and more rubies adorned the ample chest she left on display in a low-cut sea-green gown.

“Well done, Joffrey,” Cersei clapped at his latest adequate shot. “He shows such talent.”

“Oh, yes. He is getting closer to the center,” Genna replied, holding up an empty cup. “Though I might die of thirst before. You there!” She called to the serving man standing between their table and Egg’s, “More wine.”

“A different vintage though,” Cersei quickly added. “Seek out my maidservant, she’ll show you to my personal stores. And have that bard move to the other side of us. His notes are lost in the breeze.”

The servant’s departure opened up a view of the neighboring table and the preening peacock Cersei called a husband. Egg’s fingers were heavy with golden rings and he’d slung a scarlet sash over his wine surcoat, upon it were badges depicting his sigil and the likenesses of Whitegrove and Dunstonbury.

_There should be another of the king handing those castles to him._

_Fancy gifts for the dragon that never took wing._

It was a truth that the riverlords sitting with Egg were painfully ignorant of. He spied the fairweather Freys, like Emmon, Genna’s shameful excuse of a husband, and his elder brother, Stevron, the heir to the Twins. Next were the faithful loyalists, Lord William Mooton and Ser Raymun Darry and lastly was the defeated rebel, Lord Jonos Bracken, himself.

To see Egg and Bracken beggared belief. Not long ago, Jonos had been in revolt and Egg calling for his traitorous head. The king had been inclined to leniency and now Egg had taken it to heart. All part of his mummery as King of the Camps.

It was fair to call him such. With Rhaegar yet to arrive, Egg had been basking in all the authority he could seize. Riverrun was no Casterly Rock and its limited rooms were reserved for Edmure’s kin and the dragons of the ruling line. So while the heir bedded down in the castle, Egg had gathered all the many prominent guests together in what he called the Bridal Camp. The worm went so far as to name a watch under Jaime’s cousin, Ser Daven Lannister.

_Daven and his men do their duty too well. Cersei is wary to give what I’ve waited a year to have again._

“Your son has a fine handle on that weapon,” Jonos remarked. “My own prefers the sword. Perhaps later Harry could show his skill for your family with a bout.”

“That would be your bastard? Harry Rivers?” Egg sipped of his goblet and Jonos nodded.

“I hope to have him legitimized. He’s a good lad and will make a better lord. If your brother sees fit to grant it, I’d be forever thankful.”

“Our king is a forgiving sort, my lord. At times I’ve questioned his leniency...” he glanced at Jaime, “In your case, I am glad of it. Let us speak of your bastard. To have him legitimized to supplant your trueborn daughters will be trying indeed. A great array of influence would be needed. Past mistakes have cost you in that.”

“I know the cost of my revolts. In blood and more. I’ll not fail a line of Bracken men that reaches back to the Age of Heroes when we were kings in our right. I owe those men everything. Any who help me pay that debt, I will be in theirs.”

“A noble cause,” Egg’s tone was far more solemn than his eyes, which gleamed with excitement. “That did not sway the Tullys to aid you, if my friends of Darry and Mooton spoke truly.”

“My _mistakes_ made me an inconvenience to Lord Hoster and the bloody Blackwoods have his son turned to their twisted ways of thinking-”

“There are others we can turn to, my friend,” Egg smiled. “Some well-made marriages could aid us. Your eldest daughter is a fine prospect, but it’s young Harry that we must endear to our allies. I know of a lovely girl back at Casterly Rock. She comes from similar circumstances as your boy, Joy Hill being the natural-born niece of Lord Tywin…”

Jaime held back a curse and caught Cersei glaring at him in a warning.

“Joy’s a kind girl,” Jaime whispered. “It’s not for him to be handing off our kin over duck and wine-”

“Kin? She’s a bastard,” Cersei waved her hand. “Let Bracken grovel for her. We’re in a season of poor matches.”

“Mother! Watch!” Joffrey demanded. “Father! I shall pretend the target is a rebel!”

“Calm yourself, son!” Egg laughed, trying to make light of Joffrey’s ravings to continue his dealings.

“Oh let him!” Another voice rang out as Aegon the Younger approached the canopy with his entourage. “By the looks of that target, Joffrey’s in a forgiving mood.”

The young prince strode onward with an air of reckless confidence, his tousled hair shifting in the breeze and a thumb tucked under a black-diamond studded swordbelt. Upon his sea-green doublet was a familiar red-gold broach, a roaring dragon’s head once meant for Joffrey until Egg gifted to this prince instead.

These were far nicer decorations than those shadowing the prince. At Aegon’s left was that smirking ass, Theon Greyjoy, with a bow slung over his shoulder. Ser Osric Waters was to the right, the bastard looking far too much like his knightly sire. Behind came Gerold Dayne and Humfrey Hightower. Each a kinsmen to the three great men he’d helped kill for the sake of a mad one.

_Then I killed Aerys myself. Too little, too late for these lot._

“Nephew! Always a pleasure,” Egg clapped. “Do you bring word of your father’s progress?”

“Wherever my family is, we are here. Surely dragons belong with dragons. Accept my apology for being so late.”

“You’re forever welcome!” Egg embraced his nephew enthusiastically. “Cersei, dear wife, look at the honor we are done. He wears our gift.”

“How splendid,” Cersei donned a mask of calm, beneath which he knew she seethed with rage.

Still, she rose to offer the heir her hand. After kissing it graciously, Aegon did the same for a giggling Myrcella and tussled Tommen’s hair before regarding the other guests.

“Ser Stevron, we just left your sons in Lord Edmure’s hall. And a brother too, Ser Aenys, I believe,” Aegon smiled and nodded at Jonos next. “Lord Bracken, you were missed. Tytos Blackwood noted your absence several times. No doubt he was jealous of you being in such good company.”

“They ought to be jealous,” Joffrey laughed. “Better a dragon’s camp than a trout’s hall.” He lowered his crossbow and beckoned to Aegon, “Try my crossbow again, cousin. I’ll help you do better than the last time.”

“Thank you, _cousin_ ,” Aegon’s cheer faltered for a moment. “I’ll gladly concede you’re the better shot with that weapon. My skill lies with the sword.”

“It’s also beneath you,” Theon laughed. “At thrice the distance, I’m thrice as deadly with my bow as Joffrey and his toy.”

“A bow is a peasant’s weapon!” Joffrey shouted.

“So peasants are deadlier than you?”

“Manners, my friend,” Aegon swatted at Theon. “There’s no need to argue when you can settle things easily enough. Thrice the distance, was it? I’d say there’s the makings of a contest in that. What say you, Joffrey?”

Joffrey agreed wholeheartedly, as did Theon, with yet another smirk. Soon the two challengers were taking their marks. With the contest drawing the attention of the guests, the two Aegons seized the opportunity to break away.

A table was readied off to the side of the rest. The heir brought only Osric with him, whereas Cersei seized upon Egg’s arm, forcing him to include her. After several harsh whispers between them, Jaime found himself party to this private audience.

“There’s little I keep from my wife,” Egg explained with a flush. “Please, know whatever is said here, will stay between us.”

“Us and Casterly Rock,” Aegon offered while drinking of a cup of water. “Not that I’d begrudge it in this matter. I’ve done as you suggested and spoken at length with Lord Edmure and others in the castle. It is as we feared. The Inquiry must end.”

“It’s a debacle,” Cersei declared. “A bumbling false hand, a dwarf, and a soft-hearted giant were entrusted to unravel Littlefinger’s plots and look at the mess they’ve made of it.”

“Tyrion is the only reason it’s done any good,” he put in and Cersei scowled.

“He would say so.”

“It’s become so twisted,” Egg said. “Good, loyal families misled by Littlefinger, now defamed and fleeced for the sake of the Night’s Watch. Others, like the Estermonts, barely chided to appease fairweather friends. All the infighting between the heads... that Silveraxe Fell chose exile rather than give in to their demands is a dire potent. Imagine if his son had not conceded? What if the other royalist families in the Stormlands followed their lead? I fear Rhaegar’s good intentions have not been rewarded, forgive me for saying so.”

“I’d say there’s nothing to forgive, save that I blame you for your part in this farce,” Aegon’s reply caused Egg to start. “The Inquiry was to be your duty. Abandoning court hurt the crown and realm both, uncle. Ask your new friends if you doubt me.”

“I wanted to serve,” Egg insisted. “As I’d done all Rhaegar’s reign. Then I was passed over for an incapable brute. How else was I to respond to such disrespect?”

“By swallowing it and doing your duty,” he offered.

Ser Osric spat on the ground, “Your sense of duty changes with the wind.”

“I’m not the only Kingsguard to test his vows. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, bastard.”

Aegon gestured between them. “Even the noble Kingsguard is at odds. The realm needs you back on the small council. I need you there. My father too.”

Egg swallowed, “I’m at a loss, nephew. You chide me in one breath and flatter me with the next. What would others say if I sit at the council table after all the disrespect I’ve suffered.”

“How can you not? Across the Narrow Sea, a pretender marches at the head of an army, conquering, winning glory, crowning himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms. The greatest threat to our family since the rebellion and you wash your hands of it.”

“Do not let him speak to you like that,” Cersei urged Egg, turning her gaze to the heir. “Take the pretender’s successes up with your sister. He’d still be the backwater Blackfyre if not for her.”

_There it is. Damn it, Cersei._

In this moment, he regretted sharing the truth with her. Viserys managing to return Visenya to court and the Blackfyre sacking Myr were two stories which should have naught to do with each other. Few knew better.  
  
Being a shadow of the royal family made him so lucky. Before Viserys could collect Visenya from Volantis, another dragon had called on her. Daemon Blackfyre had proposed a marriage to Visenya, to make her his queen and rule the Seven Kingdoms together.

“She wanted no part of it, but your sister is too clever for her own good,” Cersei explained callously. “Instead of simply rejecting the pretender, Visenya urged him into entering the war between the Tyroshi and her quarrelsome sister cities-”

“A war she hoped would aid us,” Egg added diplomatically. “Bleed the Golden Company’s strength and give her time to rally Rhaegar and Volantis to the fight. Only your father showed no interest and Viserys ferried Visenya away before she could win the Volantenes over.”

“‘Senya caused the fall of Myr,” Aegon ran a hand down his face. “Seven hells, let Edmure Tully keep my sister locked in his castle, so she might not do any more damage at court.”

Egg clucked his tongue, “The plan had promise. A touch rash, but with some changes I would have supported it had...”

“Had you been at court,” the heir finished. “You must see. My father’s attention has wandered to frivolous things. Think, what if all the strength the Inquiry had won for the Wall had been sent to Myr? This peace we live is a false one. An eye in a storm. You sense it too. Both our households boast more swords than ever.”

“Cersei was the wisdom behind that,” he pointed out to Egg’s fury. “She was lacking in proper protection this past year.”

“She is always safe with me,” Egg snapped. “The Inquiry and the Blackfyre are indeed worrisome. They stir up disloyal sentiments in those unhappy with the peace our family provides.”

Egg rubbed his chin in thought, “The Blackfyres have inspired worse.”

Aegon rose to his feet, “Then let them bring out the best in us. Uncle, between us, we could rally the most powerful families of the realm and more allies still. If my father will not act, then we shall. To dose this Blackfyre threat forever. My mother is an able queen and with your support, my father might be guided to ruling wisely once more. Give me your-”

“Give your king his due,” Egg demanded, his shoulders tense and face flushed. “This talk is for a lower sort than the Prince of Dragonstone. Aegon, I thought better of you. Rhaegar has faults but he has kept our family together and our holdings in peace. My own father failed to do the same, such is why I forgave Rhaegar for rising against him. Even at my father’s worst, I never thought to undermine him. He wore the crown, as burdensome as it can be. To help him do so was my hope. Reflect, nephew. Rhaegar is my brother and your father, yet he is always our king, first.”

Jaime couldn’t recall Egg ever chastising the heir. It was doubtful the boy could either. The younger Aegon drummed his fingers upon the table, his mouth set in a firm, tense line.

A surprised sound then went up from the other tables. The archery contest had ended, and with Joffrey hurling his crossbow to the ground and Theon laughing loudly, he was sure of the outcome.

“Father! I want the fool who tends my crossbow flogged!” Joffrey yelled while marching over. Slapped his hands onto the table, he ranted, “The sight failed me! He was lax and look what happened! I won’t stand for it.”

“It’s more a case that you can’t shoot for shit,” Theon came round to bow to Aegon. “I hope you made a wager on that my friend-”

“Watch your tongue, Greyjoy,” Cersei rose to Joffrey’s defense. “A reaving scoundrel like you should be taught how to speak of their betters. If my son says his weapon failed him, it is so. Your word is as worthless as your victory just now.”

Egg reached to calm her, “Cersei, it was a boys’ contest.”

“Theon, did you win fairly?” Aegon asked, suddenly looking between Jaime and Egg in a queer way. “Do Cersei and Joffrey slander your victory unjustly?”

Theon stood up proudly, “I did and they speak nonsense. On my name, I won fairly.”

“Then Cersei should apologize.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Cersei said defiantly as Egg stood to raise his hands between them.

“Nephew, please, this is getting out of hand.”

“A member of my father’s court has been slandered. I support his right to challenge that. By word or blade if need be.”

All grew quiet. He raised an eyebrow at Cersei, who looked as determined as the heir sounded. Egg made to reason with the heir again when Cersei took hold of Joffrey and pointed at Theon.

“Fetch your blade then. My son is too young yet to answer this challenge, so we shall name another to champion him.”

Joffrey beckoned to the Hound yet Cersei spoke first, “My brother will defend Joffrey’s name. He is a Kingsguard and my son a prince afterall. Are you ready to stand against him, Greyjoy?”

“Theon is unable,” Aegon rose, grasping a confused Theon’s arm. “His arm is tired from the contest. It is I who will champion his cause.”

Gasps erupted from all those within earshot. He had been relishing the thought of battering Theon but now his stomach was lurching at the idea of his blade nearing Rhaegar’s heir.

“This is madness!” Egg declared. “The Prince of Dragonstone cannot risk himself in such a risky contest. Remember Baelor Breakspear! Think of who you face, nephew.”

“My prince, I beg the right,” Osric stepped forward. “Your heart is true, but too good to endanger against the _Kingslayer_. Let me be the means to justice here.”

Aegon paused to consider, and Jaime swore a grin tugged at his mouth for the blink of an eye. The heir acquiesced calmly to Osric’s request, and soon enough, Jaime and his sworn brother were striding out into the field, now ringed by onlookers who had finally found a spectacle worthy of braving the sun for. Joffrey ran up to present Jaime his weapon, a blunted practice blade, for Egg insisted on it despite Osric’s protests. Jaime had made no argument either way.

_There’s no need to kill him. The seven know  there wasn’t any reason to kill his father either._

Such thoughts cost him, for the challenge had begun. Osric came at him in a fury, bringing a hard length of steel at his head. Jaime met the cut and held him there.

“Years, _murderer_ ,” Osric rasped from beneath his helm. “Years I’ve waited for Aegon to give me this chance. Practice blade be damned, my father’s vengeance will be done.”

“I miss him too. With Oswell, it was the jests worthy of laughter. Not his swordsmanship.”

Osric cursed and their battle truly began. A slash came at his leg and he caught it to throw a shoulder into the bastard. His own cut caught Osric’s right arm, the armor there ringing loudly and the lad grunted in pain.

A sound far too familiar. In a flash, he was there the night the three died. Dayne. Hightower. Whent. The carnage of it. Oswell had a man-at-arms impaled on his sword while three bolts pierced his own body. The pikemen closing in. Blood dripping from Oswell’s mouth as he smiled at Jaime. His last jest was as dark as his end.

_“Whatever hell you end up in, lion, I’ll keep it warm for you.”_

The blow landed hard, hitting his armored thigh and spreading a hollow pain through his leg. Osric was on him, cutting and slashing. The bastard had learned new skills in the Reach. Still, even as he drew a sweat, Jaime knew he was twice the warrior this lad was. There was no reason to hold back. Not when he caught Cersei eyeing him hungrily.

So he left Oswell Whent in the past. It was another Kingsguard Jaime pictured as he dodged another strike and arched his own blade down in a crushing blow on Osric’s extended left arm. It was the Dragoneye he saw now.

That’s what he called his former friend since his betrayal. It made it easier to hate him. To pummel the Dragonseye. To take out all the hate and frustration of being separated from Cersei upon him. Again and again he struck Osric, raining blows upon him like he’d done to the Dragonseye.

_Until he left the capital too. Rubbing it in that he had such freedom and I did not._

“You’re a better man without her,” his false friend had said before leaving.

“I’m a better man always,” Jaime had spat. “Or can’t you see so through that twisted eye?”

He doubted Osric would be seeing much through his left eye for a time. Not after the younger knight’s helm fell away and Jaime slammed his crossguard into it. Blood poured from a cut as Osric fell onto his back, bleeding and bruised. His boot pressed onto Osric’s chest, a rounded blade against his throat. He saw the shame in the lad’s face.

Even a tear mixing in the blood running down Osric’s face.

The fight was over. Joffrey’s name won out over Greyjoy’s, as Cersei wished.

Some clapped. More were silent, refusing to grant him his due. Theon was one of them, his crossed his arms, his smirk lost. Joffrey smiled as if he’d won the bout himself. He cared most about and the fierce familiar lust he saw in her.

Yet the two Aegons confused him. Their reactions oddly reversed. The heir looked pleased with the outcome as he whispered to a distraught Egg.

Whatever contest he had won, they were clearly playing a different game.

 

 **JON  
** _The Wheel Tower_

He was jostled once more, this time by a passing serving man. There were many bodies moving through the castle corridors and Jon in such a hurry the two collided as they rounded a corner.

Without hesitation he waved the man off. Such mishaps were a peril of traveling through Riverrun of late. The castle seemed fit to burst, the king’s party alone had numbered more than Tullys and the other great houses guesting within the walls, clogging the passages of all manner of folk.

It was a problem Jon and his siblings were only adding to. While he had to wear a stag’s badge to name him a Baratheon, any with eyes could see Gendry and Mya were stags in all but name.

“Riverrun … I name it _Overrun_ ,” Mya exhaled, adjusting her cloak after another collision. “The last stallion I broke gave me fewer bumps than these people.”

“Flea Bottom was worse,” Gendry shook his head. “Whole streets full of people. At least this lot aren’t trying to pick your pockets. They smell better too.”

“I say you’re spinning tales, Gendry. You were last there as a boy.”

“Little younger than you when you left the Vale. Try and tell me you’ve forgotten the smell of the stables.”

Mya considered that, running a hand through her short, black hair. Neither his brother or sister looked distressed to speak of their past lives, yet shame nagged at Jon all the same.

_One day, I’ll make House Baratheon whole._

That his half-siblings were even here at Riverrun gave him hope. Their father had originally refused to consider bringing them along to a royal wedding. With all the trouble that arose the last time they were among the royal family, Lord Robert wanted him to have some minders about. Jon hated the notion at first, until a keener mind than his drew attention to the opportunity presented him.

So Jon agreed to his father’s demand on one condition. That he could choose his minders. Lord Robert relented, and Jon immediately named Gendry his personal guard and Mya a keeper of his wardrobe.

“How bold you are to make demands of me,” father had laughed. “The sort of stones a future lord needs. Ha! I summoned them in the first place to get you to start acting as a boy should. Now the bastards have you acting as a man. Let them be yours if you wish.”

And so they were. Gendry took well to the role, dressing in a Baratheon guardsmen tunic with a sword on his hip. It was harder for Mya, who was no expert at clothing, yet she performed her mummery well, donning a simple gown instead of her usual riding leathers.  

Even Edric had taken up a new position in the Baratheon household. Their younger brother was elsewhere in the castle, eagerly serving as squire to Ser Colen. They likely tended father now, all awaiting Jon, yet the delay was necessary. The Starks had been the last to arrive at Riverrun. His northern kin had taught him what family could be, and as dear as they were to him, it was important for his future wife met the Starks in the proper way.

Up a final flight of stairs, and the trio arrived at the entranceway of one of the Wheel Tower. The large keep had been given over completely to the royal family, evident by the pair of Kingsguard standing at attention before a thick, redwood door. He remembered Ser Balon Swann from the capital but not the other, whose face seemed badly bruised beneath a bat-wing helm.

“Jon Baratheon, you are expected,” Balon nodded, rapping upon the door which was opened by a steward. “The princess’s caller has arrived.”

“I thought you had a wolf,” the bruised knight said. “A freakishly huge beast. Like the ones the Starks brought through the gates.”

“They’re direwolves, not freaks,” Mya corrected and he nodded.

“Many make that mistake. Ghost and the rest are no threat but it’s dangerous to let them wander free. We’ve put them up in a stable for their own good. Fearful folk can act rashly.”

“Rashly?” Osric scoffed. “Didn’t your wolf attack a prince? Reason enough to keep a danger like that in chains.”

 _It was Joffrey that should’ve been put in chains,_ he thought, _that golden monster is the true reason we’re keeping Ghost locked away._

“It would have to be strong steel,” Gendry said. “Common ones couldn’t hold Ghost.”

“Nor any stable either,” Mya added. “He and other stay put because they know Jon’s right. It’s people who are the dangerous ones.”

The young knight laughed and rolled his eyes, wincing some at the effort.

Gendry caught it too, “With all respect, Ser Osric, I wager it wasn’t a wolf that gave you those hurts.”

“Twas a different sort of beast. How do you name me? Your lord and I have never met.”

“The ser’s helm and cloak. I left Flea Bottom long ago but I’m a Waters still. Always keen to hear tales of the White Bat of the Kingsguard.”

Ser Osric gave a slight nod to that, perhaps as impressed by Gendry as Jon was. He was in the midst of giving his brother a pat on the back when the door opened and his breath caught.

Elinor and Gael emerged first, all smiles, followed by the more reserved Talla, who led the others to step aside in a swish of their skirts. Robb might have laughed at the display. Not him. He was still waiting to breathe as Daenerys strode out between them.

“Hello, Jon,” Dany greeted him, a small smile upon her perfect face. He smiled too, feeling foolish at how earnestly it came on. It couldn’t be helped. Not with Dany wearing the same black and gold gown she’d worn for their farewell at the capital.

“Good day to you, Princess Daenerys,” he managed a bow, teasing her with formality and relishing the raised eyebrow it earned him.

“Gendry, Mya, it’s so good to see you again,” Dany spoke warmly, gesturing to her friend. “You’ll remember Gael, of course, and these are the ladies Talla Tarly and Elinor Hightower.”

“I told you they were comely as the lord,” Gael tittered to Talla as his siblings bowed. “Imagine if the girl was trueborn, we’d all be jealous-”

“You already are,” he said. “Or did the lady forget her admiration of how well my sister rides?”

“We surely didn’t,” Dany laughed. “Nor did I forget them when thinking of a gift to commemorate your household’s first attendants. Elly, go ahead.”

Young Elinor beamed and practically flew across the floor to Jon. To him she offered three sewn crests. Upon them was a golden field where a black stag reared up tall to meet a howling white wolf.

“For the lord and his attendants,” Elinor said before whispering to him. “Daenerys did the needlework herself.”

He was at a loss. His father’s sigil had always been enough for him. At times it felt like the only thing that marked Jon as a Baratheon. The crests in his hands would set him apart from his father. Something his Stark features and years of acrimony had done for much of his life.  

Had anyone else presented him with these Jon would have refused them. Any except for her.

“Thank you, princess,” he bowed. “They’re… this is too kind. You do fine work with a needle.”

“Praise I intend to earn,” Dany smiled, collecting three needles from Talla and coming forward to take the crests from him. Then her hand was upon his chest and a welcome warmth spread through him.

He’d longed for her touch since Wendwater Keep. With every dance, every embrace, each kiss they had shared, he became hers, body and soul. He was surprised she could pin the crest over his heart with it beating so. It was touched again as Daenerys pinned the others to Gendry and Mya by her own hand.

“By this, I honor Jon’s chosen few,” she said to the red-faced pair. “And my future kin.”

Gendry and Mya were still wide-eyed at the display once they left the tower to seek Riverrun’s godswood. Now it was them walking into the odd passerby, and Gendry’s strong build meant many were rattled sharply. A squeeze of his arm brought his focus back to the princess upon it. Dany was looking up at him with a curious gaze.

“Was it too much? It felt right after what you said in your letters. Shaena said to use the Stark grey but I thought Ghost’s white was more fitting for you.”

“Ghost and I are kindred. You did well by us both, truly,” he dared to touch her hand. “Better for Gendry and Mya. Your counsel is the reason they’re here. Father and I might be quarreling still if  I hadn’t named them to my service.”

“It would have come easily had you endured the strife of my family,” she said with a sad tone. “Often times ceremony is all that overcomes our divisions. Tonight’s feast will the be first time Egg and Rhaegar have seen each other in more than a year. They must make amends. If they don’t… the battles between Shaena and Visenya are already nearly too ugly to bear.”

“I worry on Stannis and my father too. Gendry claims they’re like steel and iron. They clash like it. I feared for my uncle’s teeth after he was told to make camp without the walls.”

“My brothers are there too. Egg, Jay, Viserys, and thankfully, Joffrey and Cersei. Is it wrong to think that alone is worth the cost?”

“Not by any measure of mine,” he admitted, to which his princess laughed and that buoyed his hope for the introductions to come.

The castle godswood was a massive airy garden. Elms and redwoods grew among wildflowers and man-made streams with thick green moss growing along stone banks. The heart-tree was near one of these streams, and it was at that slender weirwood came Jon came upon his kin.

Beneath the red-leaves of the weirwood, Jon’s father laughed loudly at some jest, inspiring Lord Eddard Stark’s usually cold, hard face into an earnest smile. The others were closer to the stream. Robb stood with the Lady Catelyn, his lady mother, an attractive woman of fair skin and auburn hair. Her eldest daughter Sansa bore similiar lovely features, the blossoming beauty sharing a stone bench with Ysilla Royce, Robb’s betrothed. The four were all smiles as the two future goodsisters worked together to make a wreath of flowers.

A gale of childish laughter drew his attention to Edric and Arya. The pair were nearly in the stream, Edric standing firm on its edge and holding onto Arya’s hand as the skinny, brown-haired girl leaned out over the water to snatch up the pink orchids floating there.

“Arya Stark! Stop that this instant,” Lady Catelyn called out.

“It’s alright, mother!” Arya leapt back, holding the orchids up in triumph. “Sansa! These should be enough for your- oh! Jon! Look it’s Jon!”

Arya tucked the orchids behind her back as she came running to hug him. “This is her? The princess? We weren’t finished making her gift...”

“I am,” Dany smiled at the audacious girl squeezing his middle. “You must be Arya. Jon’s told me many a tale about a brave, adventurous little she-wolf. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you and putting some of that praise to the test.”

Arya tensed some, looking up at him and biting her lip like as she did when being teased.

“She means riding, Arya. Daenerys enjoys a good day in the saddle and wants to see if you’re every bit the rider I remember you being.”

“I’ve gotten better! I’ve outridden Bran and Jory and Harwin. Are princesses allowed to race?”

“Manners, Arya,” Lady Catelyn chided, grabbing hold of her youngest daughter as Sansa joined them. “I believe your cousin was about to make the proper introductions.”

He did as he was bid, introducing Daenerys which bid Lady Catelyn to lead Sansa and Arya in a respectful curtsy.

Dany did the same, “A good day to you, Lady Stark. And you, Sansa. Jon said the Stark women made the North bloom and still that did not do justice to your beauty.”

“She makes it sound like I said nothing,” Robb acted hurt. “How quickly one wolf is forgotten among the pack.”

“Earlier was for talk of wolves and stags, now a dragon is among us,” Sansa gazed admiringly at Dany’s gown. “The Baratheon colors suit you, Your Grace. And Jon, is that a new sigil?”

“It’s mine, yes. Daenerys crafted it and I hope to wear it well.”

“The stitching is wonderful,” Sansa noted.

“My sister had me redouble my efforts at it,” Dany explained. “Shaena wants me well prepared for becoming the lady of a castle. It make me proud to see Jon wearing something I made, especially if he wears it as handsomely as a smile.”

Arya laughed, “He’ll smile for you. Any time you want. His heart is yours. He told Robb so-”

“Arya!” Catelyn and Sansa snapped at once. Despite his reddening face, Jon rose to Arya’s defense.

“It would be a shameful thing if Daenerys did not know where my heart lies.”

“Aye,” Robb nudged Gendry playfully. “The Bull and I have wagers on whether he’s written poems.”

“You’re one to speak of wagers, Robb Stark,” Mya spoke up with a flick of her hair. “I could name an heir yet to pay me for a loss when we last raced steeds.”

“I remember that!” Edric called happily. “Mya had you at three horse lengths-”

“Four,” Jon corrected to Robb’s embarrassment. “I wrote a poem about it.”

They had a good-natured laugh at his cousin’s expense. Dany then introduced her ladies to the girls, whom Sansa was especially taken with. It did not surprise him to see Arya more drawn towards Mya and Gendry, for the girl could make friends of anyone. He worried then, looking to Lady Catelyn, for she had once cautioned Jon against treating his illegitimate siblings too much like trueborn ones. That, had his mother lived, they would have been an insult to her.

Yet his aunt made no objection to Arya and Mya’s talk of their favorite mounts, nor to Robb leading Edric in a mock inspection of Gendry’s uniform. The lady instead looked to Daenerys and then to him, offering a smile and reassuring nod. Lady Catelyn was the closest he’d known to a mother, and her approval warmed him.

“Did your other sons not accompany you? Bran and Rickon?” Dany asked the lady, who shook her head sadly.

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Bran is much too young to serve as lord but with Robb in the south it had to be. Winterfell’s maester and master-at-arms will guide him, and little Rickon shall keep him company.”

“Rickon was too afraid to come truly,” Arya added. “He heard Quent and Hullen talking about what happened to the last wolves that visited the dragons.”

“Arya, really,” Sansa sighed, even as she joined in with the others in staring at Dany.   

She bore it well, her expression even as she bowed her head, “I pray Bran and Rickon will do well until your return. As I have prayed with the king and queen for forgiveness in our father’s crimes.”

“I’ve done much the same for my sister,” Lady Catelyn touched at her chest. “The crimes are not comparable, yet I understand how a great family can be tainted by the foul actions of one.”

Dany nodded, “We are all here because my family still holds great esteem for House Tully. So please take no insult that I ask, how does Robert Arryn fare in the North?”

“Stone. At Winterfell, he is Robin Stone,” Sansa answered sadly. “He hates to be called such but mother says we cannot hide the truth from him. Father’s quite kind to him really. He asked me to read tales to Robin whenever his good behavior earns reward.”

“A rare wolf this one!” Lord Robert bellowed, leading Uncle Eddard on from the tree. “Poor man would be standing about for hours if he waited for the women to finish talking.”

“Lord Robert, always a pleasure,” Dany said pleasantly before addressing his unc;e.  “Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. Proud titles, my lord, worthy of a man who heads such a fine family.”

“You have my thanks, Princess Daenerys of the House Targaryen,” Uncle Ned rose from a bow, his expression sterner than expected. “May your union with my nephew be a happy one. All I’ve ever wanted was for Jon to have peace and joy in his life.”

“A beautiful woman often helps with happiness,” father laughed. “A better wine even more so. Storm’s End has been without beauty for some time, so I kept us well stocked in drink. We brought a fine barrel to toast Edmure with, Ned. More than enough to get my boy and you red with mirth…”  

His father’s voice faded and his gaze narrowed his gaze on Jon’s chest, the lord’s large hand reaching out to grasp and inspect Dany’s badge.

“What’s this then?”

“My new sigil, father,” Jon explained, unease settling in. “One day it shall be the Baratheon stag alone. Until then, the stag is yours as lord and this shall be mine as heir.”

“As if there’s not enough setting us apart already,” father grumbled.

“Robert,” Uncle Ned frowned deeply. “It’s a common enough practice-”

“Yet your heir still wears your sigil. There’s more to this than you know, Ned. We locked up that wolf to keep from needling the dragons. Now he pins it to his bloody chest. Seven hells! Gendry and Mya as well? They nearly killed one of my bastards and you make targets of the other two?”

“If anyone comes at my brothers or sister they’ll find me waiting,” He stepped out of the lord’s grasp as embarrassment and anger welled up in him. “I’m not the one who forgave my brother’s attacker-”

“My lord, I beg your leave,” Dany stepped between them, a worrying act considering the fury swallowing the pair. She worsened it by laying hands on both their chests. “The crests were my doing. Jon had no idea of the gift I would present him, and is too fine a man to refuse me. A credit to his upbringing surely.”

“This was you?” the lord’s nostrils flared, his glare shifting from Jon to Dany, whom did not flinch in the least.

“I will suffer no insult against her,” he warned, yet Dany presed him back.

“As a lord should act towards his lady. Lord Robert, I was raised at court. Soon though, I’ll be the Lady of Storm’s End. A duty I shall take up with all the fury of your words. If my lord sees fault in the crests, it is surely mine. Crude practice at what I must surely improve upon.”

“There’s nothing wrong with them,” he added firmly, trying to ignore Dany’s pleading gaze as his father continued to breath heavily. The lord kept looking between them, then to Uncle Ned in an uncertain manner. The northern lord appeared grim indeed, his brow furrowed as he stared back at Jon’s father.

“You’re waiting to say this my fault,” Lord Robert grumbled. “For picking a princess to wed a son I could scarce handle as a boy. Well bugger that. If anything I’ve been proven right. Look at how she’s got her claws into him. That’s a love I know all too well. Gods know I would’ve worn a potato sack if Lya had made me one.”

“It might have suited you,” Uncle Ned replied, catching Jon off guard, for Lord Robert’s demeanor darkened again.

A rumbling sound grew in the larger lord’s chest. Jon feared it a roar of rage only for a gruff laugh to burst forth from his father.

“Ah, Ned. I missed you. Nearly as much as the boy when you had him,” father grabbed Jon’s shoulder and shook it hard. “The dragons can’t take issue with a decoration given by one of their own. Make sure you tell the Dragonseye that with your own lips, princess. Few enough want to cross that sour killer.”

“Perhaps after she starts on a matching sack for Jon?” Robb asked, scratching at his head. The grin Robb offered Jon and gentle stroking of Dany’s fingers against his chest helped dose the fire within.

He dipped his head, “Father… we can’t always have Starks about, so we must be glad Daenerys will be one day. To ease our fury.”

“Perhaps. In the worst ways we’re too much alike,” Lord Robert nodded Dany’s way. “It might well fall to you to do what Lyanna was meant to.”

“I never could, yet I will try,” Daenerys lifted her chin proudly. In this, she was precious to him.

He wished to say so, yet Lady Catelyn suggested giving the collected ladies a tour of her home’s godswood. Father wished much the same only apart from the women and with only Lord Stark as company. Robb and he were offered small waves to their future wives as Arya and Sansa led them away, leaving them alone with Jon’s half siblings.

“Jon… please don’t fight with father over me…” Edric rubbed at his chest with glistening eyes. “What if you make him too angry and he sends me away? He only brought me to Storm’s End to make you happy….”

“That will never happen,” He grabbed the boy’s shoulders, looking to Gendry and Mya as well. “The ugliness there was because each and every one of you look more his than me. I’m the one that disappoints, not any of you.”

“He only loves you though,” Gendry crossed his arms. “We’re your kin, brother. Forever and always. To him, we’re byblows at best, servants at worst.”

“They’re right,” Mya kicked at a bush in anger, a truly rare outburst from her.  “The Seven above know he doesn’t even remember my mother’s name. Jon, we know you’ll do right by us, just don’t wrong yourself on our behalf.”

“Her name was Jeyne and she sang you to sleep at night,” he went and kissed Mya’s cheek. “As you sing to every horse, beast, and child in need in comfort. I can bear father’s rage because I carry his name and each of you suffers worse everyday because you don’t. Think on what Lady Catelyn just said about family?”

“That a great one can be tainted by the actions of one,” Robb recalled thoughtfully.

“There. Should a father act unworthy, it falls upon his children to bear that burden. Since each of you will have to fight to rise above what our father made you, so shall I share in it in anyway I can.”

With this he knelt to touch Edric’s young face, which had once been so close to death he feared never to feel it warm again.

“If you were ever sent away, I would find you. To bring you home.”

“He would not go alone,” Gendry added and Mya came to ruffle Edric’s hair.

“I’d carry you back on the finest mule I could find.”

“You could ride Grey Wind if you want,” Robb mused. “The lot of you have grown on me and as far as I’ve ridden with Jon, if he needed me to go a tad bit farther for you, I’d be there.”

Edric flushed at all the attention, his chest swelling to make his own proclamation.

“And I’d do the same for any of you. I swear on my name. On Storm’s End. To the Seven above.”

The vow was put forth so honestly, Edric’s blue eyes filled with such determination, that Jon rose to face the heart-tree.

“It’s time you all know my mind. There are more of us. Perhaps as many as ten. All deserving a chance at a home at Storm’s End. However it might have dishonored my mother, I will pledge before her gods and my father’s that I will shepherd our kin home. All of them”   

Whatever their reactions, he would deal with them later. His father’s as well. For when he knelt in the damp, mossy earth, it was the Old Gods he set his thoughts to. He made the pledge he said he would, wishing he knew the names of the kin he was swearing himself to. That for all the privilege he enjoyed, he’d use it lift up those without.

For Daenerys, he made another vow, to aid and defend her as she had done for him.

_Until we say different vows, let this one bind us. Much like the crest upon my chest._

He was still doing so when he sensed others approaching behind him. Perhaps Robb meant to do as he did. Or that his siblings did not wish him to do so alone.

Thus he was shocked when he rose to turn and find the King of the Seven Kingdoms standing before him. The first thing he noticed was the crown upon King Rhaegar’s head, for the gold band was the brightest thing of his dark wardrobe. The king almost matched the simple, black clothing of the Night’s Watch worn by the bent old man on his arm. One who stared about with sightless milky eyes as Rhaegar’s lilac ones searched Jon’s face for something.

“It is good to see you again, Jon,” the king said somewhat hoarsely. “Ser Osric told me you sought the godswood but I did mean to interrupt your prayers.”

“Your Grace, you were not announced,” he bowed, noting that Barristan the Bold and Ser Robar Royce had join Robb and his siblings, as well as a number of other royal men-at-arms. Robb shrugged, clearly at a loss as well.

“There’s no need for that,” the somber king surprised him by smiling. “Not with someone I will soon call family.”

This awkward display was interrupted by the coughing of the old man.

“My great uncle deserves some introduction. Aemon of the House Targaryen, before you stands the heir to Storm’s End.”

“Jon Baratheon,” the old man’s voice rattled some. “Kin to Benjen Stark, a fellow sworn brother of the watch. A fine ranger and surely a better man than me.”

“Uncle Benjen would take issue with that. He spoke well of Castle Black’s maester,” he recalled. “Of how the Night’s Watch was made stronger by your counsel and example.”

“I fear I now fail in both,” Maester Aemon admitted sourly, slowly moving about, as if to urge the king on.

Rhaegar did not budge, firmly planted like the weirwood itself, “Jon, this wedding offers so many opportunities for better futures. Between Lord Tully and my daughter. For the former rebels and the crown. And you, Jon. I hope that after Riverrun, you might visit us again at court. There’s a seat on my council awaiting you, and there’s much you can still learn of it beforehand.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” he allowed, for his thoughts turned to Dany. “The capital is on my way home. A visit would be an easy enough thing to arrange with your invitation.”

“Which you have, any time you wish to use it,” the king almost sounded elated, while Maester Aemon turned about looking even older somehow.

“Young Lord Baratheon, please do not mention this until an overture can be made to Lord Robert first, for it would be most improper otherwise.”

“As king I can welcome to court whomever I wish,” the king snapped at the old man, whom, like Dany had earlier, showed no sign of flinching. “I brought you didn’t I?”

“Against better judgement. I belong at the Wall. The Baratheon heir at Storm’s End. A king can do many things, it does not mean he should. As Aerys proved.”

“Through suffering and death,” a harsh voice added, for Uncle Ned had returned. The stern northman strode right by his son and the Kingsguard, even the king himself, right to Jon, who had never seen his uncle so angry.

The King and the Lord of Winterfell regarded each other cooly, which made the whole situation all the stranger. Jon could scarcely recall his uncle ever speaking ill of the king. Or speaking of the king at all.

“Lord Stark, it has been some time.”

“Yes, it has, Your Grace,” Uncle Ned answered, his voice like ice. “Lord Baratheon had a thirst but shall return here shortly. Anything you wish of Jon, it should be asked of Robert.”

He attempted to intercede, “I’m sure he would allow it-”

“Then let the king ask your father,” his uncle shot back without bothering to face Jon, too intent on staring down King Rhaegar.

The king’s good spirits had disappeared, his face becoming dour and shoulders slumping some.

“I will speak with Lord Baratheon when the time is right,”  He turned away, letting the maester lead him on. “Worry not on it, Jon. Enjoy this time with your kin. It’s something to be cherished.”

“He will,” Uncle Ned grabbed Jon’s arm, squeezing it sharply. “We are lucky to have him. We Starks and Baratheons.”

As the king departed, he felt his uncle wrong. Jon had kin in this world who were still a mystery to him. Family he was now honorbound to find and serve in his own way.

He had sworn it before the heart-tree. To the Seven as well.

The gods of his parents.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I love constructive criticism so send it my way, with a bloody trebuchet. I usually post snippets or previews on Tumblr under DolorousEdditor. Tumblr user jvogel54321 did some excellent work beta'ing this for me. Gladiator, I salute you.


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